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liDUCATIONAL  REFORMERS. 


ESSAYS 


Educational  Reformers 


BY 

Robert    Hebert    Quick 

M.A.  TRIN.   COLL.   CAM.,  LATE   SECOND   MASTER    IN   TlIK  SIIKKEY  COUNTY  SCHOOb 
AND  FOR^^[RLY  CUBATB  OF  bT  .  MARK'S  WHITECHATEL. 


CINCINNATI 
ROBERT    CLARKE    &    CO 

1SS5 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

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Educotioa 
ybrcuT 

PREFACE. 


"  //  is  clear  that  in  whatever  it  is  our  duty  to  act^ 
those  matters  also  it  is  our  duty  to  study"  These  words 
of  Dr.  Arnold's  seem  to  me  incontrovertible.  So  a  sense 
of  duty,  as  well  as  fondness  for  the  subject,  has  led  me  to 
devote  a  period  of  leisure  to  the  study  of  Education^  in 
the  practice  of  which  I  have  been  for  some  years  engaged. 

There  are  countries  where  it  would  be  considered  a 
truism  that  a  teacher  in  order  to  exercise  his  profession  in- 
telligently should  know  something  about  the  chief  author- 
ities in  it.  Here,  however,  I  suppose  such  an  assertion 
will  seem  paradoxical ;  but  there  is  a  good  deal  to  be  said 
in  defense  of  it.  De  Qiiincey  has  pointed  out  that  a  man 
who  takes  up  any  pursuit  without  knowing  what  advances 
others  have  made  in  it,  works  at  a  great  disadvantage.  He 
does  not  apply  his  strength  in  the  right  direction,  he  troubles 
hm.self  about  small  matters  and  neglects  great,  he  falls  into 
errors  that  have  long  since  been  exploded.  An  educatoi 
is,  I  think,  liable  to  these  dangers  if  he  brings  to  his  task  no 
knowledge  but  that  which  he  learnt  for  the  tripos,  and  no  skill 
but  that  which  he  acquired  in  the  cricket-ground  or  on  the 
river.  If  his  pupils  are  placed  entirely  in  his  hands,  his  work 
is  one  of  great  difficulty^  with  heavy  penalties  attached  to  all 


1086379 


IV  PREFACE. 

blundering  in  it ;  though  here,  as  in  the  case  of  the  ignorant 
doctor  and  careless  architect,  the  penalties,  unfoitunalely, 
are  paid  by  his  victims.  If  (as  more  commonly  happens) 
he  has  simply  to  give  a  class  prescribed  instruction,  his 
smaller  scope  of  action  limits  proportionally,  the  mischief 
that  may  ensue ;  but  even  then  it  is  obviously  desirable  that 
his  teaching  should  be  as  good  as  possible,  and  he  is  not 
likely  to  employ  the  best  methods  if  he  invents  as  he  goes 
along,  or  simply  falls  back  on  his  remembrance  of  how  he 
was  taught  himself,  perhaps  in  very  different  circumstances 
]  venture  to  think,  therefore,  that  practical  men  in  education 
as  in  most  other  things,  may  derive  benefit  from  the  knowl 
edge  of  what  has  already  been  said  and  done  by  the  leading 
men  engaged  in  it,  both  past  and  present. 

All  study  of  this  kind,  however,  is  very  much  impeded 
by  want  of  books.  "  Good  books  are  in  German,"  says  Pro- 
fessor Seeley.  I  have  found  that  on  the  history  of  Edu- 
cation, not  only  g'ood  books,  but  a//  books  are  in  German, 
or  some  other  foreign  language.* 

♦  When  the  greater  part  of  this  volume  was  already  written, 
Mr.  Parker  published  his  sketch  of  the  history  of  Classical  Educa- 
tion (Essays  on  a  Liberal  Education,  edited  by  Farrar).  He  seems 
to  me  to  have  been  very  successful  in  bringing  out  the  most  impor- 
fant  features  of  his  subject,  but  his  essay  necessarily  shows  marks 
of  over-compression.  Two  volumes  have  also  lately  appeared  on 
Christian  Schools  and  Scholars  (Longmans,  1867).  Here  we  have 
a  good  deal  of  information  whicli  we  want,  and  also,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  a  good  deal  which  we  do  not  want.  The  work  characteristic- 
ally opens  with  a  loth  century  description  of  the  personal  appear- 
ance of  St.  Mark  when  he  landed  at  Alexandria.  The  author  treats 
only  of  the  Mmes  which  preceded  the  Council  of  Trent.     A  vers 


PREFACE.  t 

I  have,  therefore,  thought  it  worth  while  to  publish  » 
few  si'ch  imperfect  sketches  as  these,  with  which  the  reader 
can  hardly  be  less  satisfied  than  the  author.  They  may, 
liowcvei,  prove  useful  till  they  give  place  to  a  better  book. 

Several  of  the  following  essays  are  nothing  more  than 
compilations.  Indeed,  a  hostile  critic  might  assert  that  I 
had  used  the  scissors  with  the  energy  of  Mr.  Timbs  and 
without  his  discretion.  The  reader,  however,  will  probably 
agree  with  mc  that  I  have  done  wisely  in  putting  before 
him  the  opinions  of  great  writers  in  their  own  language. 
Where  I  am  simply  acting  as  reporter,  the  author's  own 
way  of  expressing  himself  is  obviously  the  best ;  and  if,  fol- 
lowing the  example  of  the  gipsies  and  Sir  Fretful  Plagiary. 
I  had  disfigured  other  people's  offspring  to  make  them 
pass  for  my  own,  success  would  have  been  fatal  to  the 
purpose  I  have  steadily  kept  in  view.  The  sources  of  orig- 
inal ideas  in  any  subject,  as  the  student  is  well  aware,  are 
fewj*  but  for..irrigation  we  require  troughs  as  well  as  water- 
springs,  and  these  essays  are  intended  to  serve  in  the  hum- 
bler capacity. 

A  word  about  the  incomplete  handling  of  my  subjects. 
I  have  not  attempted  to  treat  any  subject  completely  or 
even  with  anything  like  completeness.  In  giving  a  sketch 
of  the  opinions  of  an  author,  one  of  two  methods  must  be 

interesting  account  of  early  English  education  has  been  given  by 
Mr.  Furnivall,  in  the  2d  and  3d  numbers  of  the  Quarterly  journal 
of  Education  (1S67). 

*  Study  of  the  old  authors  proves  that  the  utterances  of  some  of 
our  most  conspicuous  reformer? — of  Mr.  Lowe  and  Mr.  Farrar,  for 
instance — do  not  give  much  evidence  of  originalitj,  a.*  no  doubt 
those  gentlemen  would  readilv  acknowledge. 


yi  PREFACE. 

adopted  ;  we  may  give  an  epitome  of  all  that  he  has  said,  oi 
hy  confining  ourselves  to  his  more  valuable  and  character- 
istic opinions,  may  gain  space  to  give  these  fully.  As  I  de- 
test epitomes  I  have  adopted  the  latter  method  exclusively, 
but  I  may  sometimes  have  failed  in  selecting  an  author's 
most  characteristic  principles  ;  and  probably  no  two  readers 
of  a  book  would  entirely  agree  as  to  what  was  most  valu- 
able in  it :  so  my  account  must  remain,  after  all,  but  a  poor 
substitute  for  the  author  himself. 

For  the  part  of  a  critic  I  have  at  least  one  qualifica- 
tion— practical  acquaintance  with  the  subject.  As  boy  or 
master,  I  have  been  connected  with  no  less  than  eleven 
schools,  and  my  perception  of  the  blunders  of  other  teach- 
ers is  derived  mainly  from  the  remembrance  of  my  own. 
Some  of  my  mistakes  have  been  brought  home  to  me  by 
reading  works  on  education,  even  those  with  which  I  do 
not  in  the  main  agree.  Perhaps  there  are  teachers  who  on 
looking  through  the  following  pages  may  meej  with  a  simi- 
lar experience. 

Had  the  essays  been  written  in  the  order  in  which  they 
stand,  a  good  deal  of  repetition  might  have  been  avoided, 
but  this  repetition  has  at  least  the  advantage  of  bringing  out 
points  which  seem  to  me  important ;  and  as  no  one  will  read 
the  book  as  carefully  as  I  have  done,  I  hope  no  one  will  be 
as  conscious  of  this  and  other  blemishes  in  it. 

1  much  regret  that  in  a  work  which  is  nothing  if  it  is 
not  practically  useful,  I  have  so  often  neglected  to  mark  the 
exact  place  from  which  quotations  are  taken.  I  have  mysell 
paid  the  penalty  of  this  carelessness  in  the  trouble  it  has 
cost  rae  to  verify  passages  which  seemed  inaccurate. 


PREFACE.  VII 

The  authority  I  have  had  recourse  to  most  frequently 
\b  Raumer  (^Geschichte  der  Pddagogik).  In  his  first  two 
volumes  he  gives  an  account  of  the  chief  men  connected 
with' education,  from  Dante  to  Pestalozzi.  The  third  vol- 
ume contains  essays  on  various  parts  of  education,  and  the 
fouith  is  devoted  to  German  Universities.  There  is  an  En- 
glish translation,  published  in  America,  of  the  fourth  vol- 
ume only.  I  confess  to  a  greht  partiality  for  Raumer — a 
partiality  which  is  not  shared  by  a  Saturday  Reviewer  and 
by  other  competent  authorities  in  this  country.  But  surely 
a  German  author  who  is  not  profound,  and  is  almost  per- 
spicuous, has  some  claim  on  the  gratitude  of  English  readers, 
if  he  gives  information  which  we  can  not  get  in  our  own 
'anguage.  To  Raumer  I  am  indebted  for  all  that  I  have 
written  about  Ratich,  and  almost  all  about  Basedow.  Else- 
where his  history  has  been  used,  though  not  to  the  same  ex- 
tent. 

C.  A.  Schraid's  Bncyclopddie  des  Brziehungs-und 
Unterrichtswesens  is  a  vast  mine  of  information  on  every- 
thing connected  with  education  The  work  is  still  in'prog- 
ress.  The  part  containing  Rousseau  has  only  just  reached 
me.  I  should  have  been  glad  of  it  when  I  was  giving  aij 
account  of  the  Emile,  as  Raumer  was  of  little  use  to  me. 

Those  for  whom  Schmid  is  too  diffuse  and  expensive 
will  find  Carl  Gottlob  Hergang's  Padagogische  ReaJency- 
clopddle  useful    This  is  in  two  thick  volumes,  and  costs,  to 
the  best  of  my  memory,  about  eighteen  shillings.     It  wa 
finished  in  1847. 

The  best  sketch  I  have  met  with  of  the  general  history 
of  education  is  in  the  article  on  Pddagogik  in  Meyer's  Con 


Vlil  PREFACE 

versations-Lexicon.  I  wish  some  one  would  translate  this 
article ;  and  I  should  be  glad  to  draw  the  attention  of  the 
editor  of  an  educational  periodical,  say  the  Museum  or  the 
Quarterly  yoiirnal  of  Education^  to  it. 

I  have  come  upon  references  to  many  other  works  oi»  the 
nistory  of  Education,  but  of  these  the  only  ones  I  have  seen 
are  Theodore  Fritz's  Esquisse  (Tun  Systcme  complet  d' in- 
struction et  d^ education  et*de  leur  histoire  (3  vols.  Stras- 
burg,  1843),  and  Carl  Schmid's  Geschichte  der  Pddogogik 
(4  vols.)  The  first  of  these  gives  only  the  outline  of  the  sub- 
ject. The  second  is,  I  believe,  considered  a  standard  work 
It  does  not  seem  to  me  so  readable  as  Raumer's  histoiy, 
but  is  much  more  complete,  and  comes  down  to  quite  re- 
cent times. 

For  my  account  of  the  Jesuit  schools  and  of  Pestalozzi, 
the  authorities  will  be  found  elsewhere  (pp.  2  and  196).  In 
writing  about  Comenius  I  have  had  much  assistance  from 
a  life  of  him  prefixed  to  an  English  translation  of  his 
School  of  Infancy^  by  Daniel  Benham  (^London,  1858). 
For  almost  ail  the  information  given  about  Jacotot,  I  am  in- 
debted to  Mr.  Payne's  papers,  which  I  should  not  have  ven- 
tured to  extract  from  so  freely  if  they  had  been  before  the 
public  in  a  more  permanent  form. 

I  am  sorry  I  can  not  refer  to  any  English  works  on  the 
history  of  Education,  except  the  essays  of  Mr.  Parker  and 
Mr.  Furnivall,  and  Christian  Schools  and  Scholars^  which 
are  mentioned  above,  but  we  have  a  very  good  treatise  on 
the  principles  of  education  in  Marcel's  Language  as  a 
Means  of  Mental  Culture  (3  vols.  London,  1853).  Edge- 
wortli's  Practical  Education  seems  falling  into  undeserved 


PREFACE.  IX 

neglect,  and  Mr.  Spencer's  recent  work  is  not  universally 

known  even  by  schoolmasters. 

If  tlie  following  pages  attract  but  few  readers  it  will  be 

80ine  consolation,  though   rather  a  melancholy  one,  that   1 

share  the  fate  of  my  betters. 

R.  H.  Q: 

Imuaticstone,  Essex,  May,  i868- 


CONTENTS. 

I.  SCHOOLS  OF  THE  JESUITS.  ^ 

FAoa 
Authorities,  see  mo/e a 

Ratio  Studiorum 3 

Training  of  Jesuits 3 

Uniform  method  and  supervision  in  their  schools 5,  15 

Money,  how  obtained 5 

The  pupils 6 

Classes  and  subject-matter  of  instruction 7,  1 1 

Mode  of  teaching 7 

Emulation 8 

Academies 9 

School  hours,  their  length  and  how  employed  • ., 10 

Private  study ta 

Repetition 13 

Thorough  knowledge  required 13 

Examinations 13 

Moral  and  religious  training 14 

Bodily  health 14 

Punishments ^ 15 

Aim  of  Jesuit  teaching 15,  17 

Learning  by  heart 17  note 

Learning  to  be  made  pleasant 18,  19 

Importance  of  the  system 20 

II.  ASCHAM,  MONTAIGNE,  RATICH,  MILTON. 

Doctrinale  of  Alexander 31 

Lily,  Colet,  and  Erasmus 31 

Wolsey 23 

(xi) 


XII  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Dr.  Johnson,  Mr.  Mayor,  an*Mr.  Long  on  the  Schoolmaster..  •  23 

Ascham's  method 23 

Queen  Elizabeth 27 

Repetition 28 

How  Montaigne  learnt  Latin 28 

He  prefers  study  of  things  to  study  of  words 29 

I  le  is  opposed  to  didactic  teaching 30 

Montaigne  on  physical  education 31 

Effect  of  the  Reformation 31 

Demands  of  the  Innovators 3a 

Their  method 3a 

Ratich's  proposals 1 33 

Report  of  Helvicus 34 

Ratich  established  at  Augsburg  and  then  at  Kdthen 34 

His  imprisonment • 35 

His  last  years 35 

His  maxims 35 

His  method 38>  39 

His  method  compared  with  Ascham's 39 

Milton's  Tract  to  Hartlib 40 

Milton's  agreement  with  the  Innovators 4ii  43 

in.  COMENIUS. 

His  early  years 43 

Settled  at  Fulneck 44 

His  banishment •» 45 

Settles  at  Leszno ■  ••  45 

Writes  the  Dtdactica  Magna 46 

Writes  the  Janua 46 

Comenius  in  London 47,  48 

Mcrsenne 49 

Comenius  goes  to  De  Goer ^ 

Interviews  with  Oxenstiern 5c 

Comenius  settles  at  Elbing 5a 

Pecuniary  difficulties 53 

Comenius  made  senior  Bishop 53 


CONTENTS.  Xfii 

PAOf 

Goes  into  Transylvania 53 

Wt  itcs  the  Orbis  Pictus'  <  •  •  • 53 

Returns  to  Leszno 53 

Leszno  pillaged 5^ 

Comenius  at  Amsterdam 5^ 

His  last  years 54 

Education  according  to  Nature 55 

Comenius'  principles 56 

Instruction    not   to  be   given   too   soon,  nor   the   form  before 

t(.e  material 57 

Subject  must  first  be  understood,  and  studied  in  outline 58 

Prearranged  course 58 

Injurious  influences 58 

Order  of  mental  development 59 

Desire  of  learning,  how  fostered 59 

Pupils  helped 60 

Punishments 6c 

Words  and  things 60 

Course  of  instruction 61 

Subjects  taught  in  the  Sckola  Vernacula 61 

The  yanua 63 

The  Orbis  Pictus 66 

IV.  LOCKE. 

Why  the  "Thoughts"  were  written,  and  why  influential (iff 

Locke  wrote  for  gentlemen 69 

Locke's  argument  against  public  schools 69 

The  argument  examined 71 

Locke  exaggerates  the  effects  of  formal  education 73>  74 

Physical  education 74 

Self-denial 77,  78 

Pai-ental  authority 77 

Tlie  bad  effects  of  great  severity 78,  79 

Activity  of  mind  destroyed  by  fear  and  dejection 80 

Rewards  and  punishments 81 

Manners  and  dancing 8a 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Servants , 83 

Play  to  be  made  work,  and  work  plajr 82,  83 

Useless  severity  in  Grammar  Schools 83 

Reasoning  with  children 84 

QualiHcations  of  the  governor 84 

Locke's  small  estimation  of  school  learning 85,  86 

Subjects  and  mode  of  teaching 86 

Spelling 86 

Reading,  writing,  drawing 87 

Latin  should  not  be  taught  to  boys  intended  for  trade 87 

Knowledge  of  things 88 

Interlinear  translations • 89 

Gentlemen  should  study  their  own  grammar,  not  foreign  gram- 
mar   90 

Instruction  should  be  easy  at  first 91 

Themes  and  verses .....  91 

Learning  by  heart 92 

Practice  in  speaking  and  composition 92 

Disputing 93 

Study  of  law 93 

Natural  philosophy 93 

No  Greek 94 

Accomplishments 94 

Gentlemen  to  learn  a  trade 94 

Travel 94 

Summing  up 95 

V.  ROUSSEAU'S  EMILE. 

Reformers  and  Conservatives 96 

Origin  of  the  Emile 97 

Rousseau's  rule  of  doing  the  opposite  of  established  custom....  98 

Education  according  to  nature 981  99 

Its  first  part  negative 99,  loa 

The  model  boy  of  twelve  years  old loi 

The  three  kinds  of  education lof 

Complete  living  the  object  of  education ....  t ..  ...^  ^  •*«.«««.. .  104 


CONTENTS. 


f^am 

Necessity  of  studying  childhood 105 

Governor  should  be  young 106 

His  functions 107 

Vitality  of  childhood  must  have  scope 108 

Education  of  the  senses 109 

Experiments  in  the  dark 1 13 

Saying  by  heart  and  declaiming 113 

Music  and  drawing 113 

Children  taught  nothing  but  words 114 

What  they  should  be  taught 116 

Bad  effect  of  making  early  .studies  disagreeable 116 

Education  should  be  concerned  only  with  things  nenr  at  h?nd..  119 

Morality  chiefly  negative , ..  121 

Liberty 1 23 

Children  must  learn  to  suffer 126 

Firmness 127 

fnnate  sense  of  right  and  wrong 127 

Punishments : 128 

Educational  value  of  scope  of  action 128 

Learning  to  begin  at  twelve  years  old 129 

Bad  effect  of  too  much  reading 130 

Ideas  given  should  be  few  and  clear 131  /exi  and  note 

Connection  of  knowledges 132,  133  text  and  note 

Didactic  teaching  a  mistake 133,  134 

Self  teaching 134,  135 

Learning  a  trade 136 

Decline  of  Rousseau's  popularity 136 

I  lis  importance  as  an  educational  reformer 138 

Competitive  examinations  for  children  a  mistake 138  note 

VL  BASEDOW  AND  THE  PHILANTHROPIN. 

Basedow's  early  years 139 

His  heterodoxy 140 

Bad  state  of  schools - 140 

Basedow's  Addt  ess  to  PAilantiropists 141 

Appenravxe  of  h\s  Elementary 141 


Jtt:  CONTENTS. 

TAG  I 

GOthe  oil  Basedow 143 

I'hilanthropin  founded 144 

Hasedow's  principles  and  writings 145 

His  curriculum 146 

Account  of  the  Philanthropin i^8 

Its  merits 15^ 

Kant's  verdict 15^ 

Influence  of  Philanthropin 155 

Basedow's  last  words 156 

VII.  PESTALOZZI. 

Pestalozzi's  early  years 1 57 

Advice  of  Bluntschli 160 

IVstalozzi  takes  to  farming 160 

i  le  builds  Neuhoif 160 

His  love-letter 161 

His  marriage 163 

He  opens  school  at  Neulioff . .  164 

Eighteen  years  of  d  istress . .  165 

Pestalozzi  writes  Eretting  Hour 166 

Leonard  and  Gertrude 167 

Other  writings  at  Neuhoff 16S 

He  takes  to  politics 168 

Goes  to  Stanz 1 70 

His  teaching  there 171 

His  teaching  at  Burgdorf .  173 

He  opens  a  school  in  Burgdorf  Castle 175 

V\jki\\i,\\Q%  Ho-i.v  Gertrude  teaches  her  Children 175 

Goes  with  deputation  to  Paris.. 175 

His  school  moved  to  MUnchenbuchsee 175 

He  opens  institute  at  Yvenlun 171; 

Its  celebrity  and  failure 176 

Success  of  Pestalozzian  ideas 177 

Blunders  in  ea-ly  education 177,  181 

Root  of  Pestalozzi's  system 183 

Child's  right  to  education 184 


CONTENT*?.  XVI) 

PAOB 

Appeal  to  mothers 184 

Education  should  aim  at  developing  the  faculties,  not  at  ({ivin^ 

•     Rp-cial  knowledge 185 

In  what  education  consists ,  18^' 

Mischief  of  disconnected  teaching i8() 

Development  of  the  affections :  anecdote 187 

Development  of  thinking  povver 1S7 

Nfethod  of  teaching 1S8 

Words  and  things 190 

Form,  number,  and  speech 190 

Importance  of  elements 19c 

Use  of  object-lessons 191 

Arithmetic 191 

Physical  education 191 

Esthetic  cultt«re.t»»» 192 

Exertion  necessary  in  right  learning 193 

Tedium  of  ordinary  school-work 193 

Connection  between  interest  of  scholar  and  teacher 194 

Gulf  between  the  ideal  and  actual  teaching 194 

Benefit  derived  from  high  aims 195 

ITse  of  theorists 195 

Books  on  Pestalozzi 196  note 

Pestalozzi  on  the  beginning  and  end  of  life 196  note 

VIII.  JACOTOT. 

Mr.  Payne's  papers  on  Jacotot 19S 

Jacotot's  early  years I9f 

His  teaching  at  Dijon 199 

He  setl'es  at  Louvain 199 

His  experiment  in  teaching  French 200 

''All  men  equally  capable  of  learning" 20c 

*' Every  one  can  teach  what  he  does  not  know" .'....  201 

This  paradox  examined 201 

Meaning  of  the  word  teach 201 

Division  of  subjects  taught  into  facts,  science,  and  arts 20] 

Teaching  of  facts 20' 


XViii  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

Teaching  of  science 204 

Teaching  of  arts 204 

Weakness  of  didactic  teaching 207 

Nfa,6ter  should  be  a  trainer  rather  than  teacher 208 

Tout  est  dans  tout 208 

Everything  in  the  model  book 208 

Mt^mory  helped  by  connection  of  ideas 209 

Learning  something  thoroughly,  and  referring  the  rest  to  it...   210 

Ascham,  etc.,  use  a  model  book 210 

Jacotot's  use  of  the  memory 211 

Ways  of  studying  a  model  book 212 

Advantages  of  having  learnt  what  we  have  forgotten 213 

Knowledge  versus  power 214 

The  Crtmbridge  mathematical  man •   215 

Danger  of  increasing  the  number  of  subjects  taught 2 j6 

The  schoolmaster  and  philosopher  at  issue 216 

Present  education  fails  to  give  desire  of  knowledge 218 

Function  of  memory  in  education 218 

Waste  of  memory 219 

Value  of  thorough  knowledge 22« 

facotot's  directions  for  learning 222 

His  method  of  teaching  reading  and  writing 22a 

Flis  method  of  studying  the  mother  tongue. 223 

The  method  of  investigation 235 

Jaeotot's  last  years 225 

Qjjolation  against  didactic  teaching 225  note 

IX.  HERBERT  SPENCER. 

Value  of  writers  who  are  not  schoolmasters 227 

Impoi  lance  of  Mr.  Spencer's  treatise- •  •  • 227,  231 

VVhioJi  knowledge  is  best  for  mental  discipline ? 228 

Reluti ve  value  of  knowledges 229 

What  education  should  do  for  us 230 

Kuowledge  leading  to  self-preservation 231 

Knowledge  useful  in  gaining  a  livelihood 233 

Knowledge  about  rearing  offspring 235 


CONTENTS.  XIX 

PACK 

Knowledge  of  duties  as  a  citizen 336 

History,  its  use  and  how  it  stiould  be  written aj6 

/Esthetic  culture 338 

i  ts  importance 240 

Summing  up  of  the  foregoing 241 

Want  of  a  science  of  education 243 

Mr.  Spencer's  principles  of  intellectual  education 243 

From  the  simple  to  the  complex 245 

From  the  known  to  the  unknown » . .  245 

Teaching  of  Latin  grammar  before  English 248 

From  the  indefinite  to  the  definite 250 

From  the  concrete  to  the  abstract 350 

Mistake  of  setting  out  with  "first  principles" 350 

Neglect  of  apparatus 351 

Knowledge  of  the  individual  and  of  the  race 251 

Every  study  should  begin  with  an  empirical  stage 351 

Self-development  must  be  encouraged 35? 

Bad  effects  of  neglecting  it 253 

Healthy  exercise  of  mind  or  body  pleasurable '.  ^ . . . .  253 

Objections  raised  to  the  last  principle 254 

DiflScuIty  of  teaching  well 254-9 

THOUGHTS  AND  SUGGESTIONS  ABOUT  TEACHING 
CHILDREN. 

Difficulties  as  to  what  to  teach 260 

The  teaching  of  non-university  men 360 

The  teaching  of  university  men 261 

Importance  of  exciting  the  interest  of  pupils 262 

Wordsworth  and  Professor  Bain  quoted  on  this  subject 263 

Failure  of  the  driving  system 263,  264 

What  makes  subjects  interesting 265 

Children  easily  interested 265 

But  generally  taught  the  wrong  things 266 

Use  of  pictures 267 

How  children  are  taught  at  Leipzig 267 


X%  CONTENTS. 

PACK 

First  reading-book  about  animals 270 

^-Esop's  Fables 271 

Learning  simple  poetry 271 

Dictation 272 

Ml    R.  Robinson's  hints  on  dictation 272  uoie 

Composition 272 

Harm  done  by  the  use  of  epitomes '....  275 

What  is  most  easily  remembered 275 

Dr.  Arnold's  plan  of  first  history-book 275 

Want  of  books  for  the  young  written  by  good  authors 276 

Biographical  sketches,  how  they  should  be  written 277 

Books  of  travel 279 

Outcome  of  the  course  suggested 280 

XI.  SOME  REMARKS  ABOUT  MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS 
EDUCATION. 

This  subject  more  considered  in  theory  than  practice 282 

Reason  of  this 282,  283 

Importance  of  informal  teaching 283 

Influence,  how  lost 283,  284 

Masters  divided  into  "  realists  "  and  "  idealists  " 284 

True  spirit  of  the  teacher 286 

Danger  of  working  on  in  a  groove 286,  287 

1  larm  done  by  overwork. 287 

Teaching  should  be  in  good  spirits : 287 

What  is  the  good  of  leisure? 288 

Importance  oi youths  in  a  school 289 

The  master  must  work  through  them 290 

Religious  teaching  scanty  at  public  schools 290 

R^ligionstunden  in  Germany 290 

Danger  of  breaking  down  reverence 291 

Religious  teaching  connected  with  worship.. ••   -> 291 

Suggestions  on  this  subject 292 

in  what  education  to  piety  consists 292 

Open-mindedness  to  be  reconciled  with  belief 293 


CONTENTS.  XXi 


APPENDIX. 

PACK 

Class  inatcheb 295 

Doctrinale  Alexaiidri  de  Villa  Dei 296 

Lily's  Grammar 297 

Colet  against  grammar-rules 299 

Mulcaster  on  the  use  of  mother-tongue joo 

Words  and  things 30J 

Marcel  on  Methodology 307 

Extracts  from  the  yatiua  Lingnarum 30*; 

Locke  on  poetry 310 

From  the  "  Evening  Hour  of  Hermit" 311 

Anecdote  of  Pestalozzi  from  Ramsauer 313 

Mr.  Ilelps,  etc.,  on  learning  one  thing  well 315 

Some  account  of  Mangnall's  Questions  317 

Dr.  Wiese  on  English  and  German  education 319 

Froebel  and  the  Kindergarten 327 

Kindergarten 340 


ESSAYS. 

ETC. 

I. 

SCHOOLS  OF  THE  JESUITS. 

Since  tl^.e  revival  of  learning,  no  body  of  men  has 
played  so  prominent  a  part  in  education  as  the  Jes- 
uits. With  characteristic  sagacity  and  energy,  they 
soon  seized  on  education  as  a  stepping-stone  to  power 
and  influence  ;  and  with  their  t  ilent  lor  organization, 
they  framed  a  system  of  schools  which  drove  all  im- 
portant competitors  from  the  field,  and  made  Jesuits 
the  instructors  of  Catholic,  and  even,  to  somj  extent, 
of  Protestant,  Europe.  Their  skill  in  this  capacity 
is  attested  by  the  highest  authorities,  by  Bacon  and 
by  Descartes,  the  latter  of  whom  had  himself  b^en 
their  pupil ;  and  it  naturally  met  with  its  reward  :  for 
more  than  one  hundred  years  nearly  all  the  foremost 
men  throughout  Christendom,  both  among  the  clergy 
and  laity,  had  received  the  Jesuit  training,  and  for 
life  regarded  their  old  masters  with  reverence  and  af- 
fection. 

About  these  Jesuit  schools — once  so  celebrated  and 
so  p'^werful,  and  still  existing  in  great  numbers, 
ihouga  little  remains  of  their  original  importance — 
there  does  not  seem  to  be  much  information  accessible 
lo  the  English  reader.     I  have,  therefore,  collected 


SCHOOLS   OF   THE  JESUITS. 


the  following  particulars  about  them  ;  and  refer  an}; 
one  who  is  dissatisfied  with  so  meagre  an  account,  to 
the  works  which  I  have  consulted.*  The  Jesuit 
schools,  as  I  sad,  still  exist,  but  they  did  their  great 
work  in  other  centuries ;  and  I  therefore  prefer  to 
speak  of  them  as  things  of  the  past. 

When  the  Jesuits  were  first  formally  recognized  by 
a  Bull  of  Paul  III.  in  1540,  the  Bull  stated  that  the 
Order  was  formed,  among  other  things,  "especially 
for  the  purpose  of  instructing  boys  and  ignorant  per- 
sons in  the  Christian  religion."  But  the  Society  well 
understood  that  secular  was  more  in  demand  than  re- 
ligious learning ;  and  they  offered  the  more  valued 
instruction  that  they  might  have  the  opportunity  of  in- 
culcating lessons  which,  to  the  Society  at  least,  were 
the  more  valuable.  From  various  Popes  tliey  ob- 
tained powers  for  founding  schools  and  colleges,  for 
giving  degrees,  and  for  lecturing  publicly  at  univer- 

*(i)  Joseph  Anton  Schmid's  "Niedere  Schulen  der  Jesuiten  :" 
Reeensburg,  1852.  (3)  Article  by  Wagenmann  in  K.  A.  Schmid's 
"  Encyclopadie  des  Erziehungs-  und  Unterrichtswesens."  (3) 
"  Ratio  atque  Institutio  Studiorum  Soc.  Jesu."  The  first  edition  of 
this  work,  published  at  Rome  in  1585,  was  suppressed  as  heretical, 
because  it  contemplated  the  possibility  of  differing  from  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas.  The  book  is  now  very  scarce.  There  is  a  copy  in  the 
British  Museum.  On  comparing  it  with  the  folio  edition  ("  Con- 
stitutiones,"  etc.,  published  at  Prag  in  1632),  I  find  many  omissions 
in  the  latter,  some  of  which  are  curious,  e.  g.,  under  "De  Matri- 
monio  :" — "  Matremne  an  uxorem  occidere  sit  gravius  non  est  huju^ 
loci."  C4)  Parsenesis  ad  Magistros  Scholarum  Inferiorum  Soc.  Jesu, 
scripta  a  P.  Francisco  Sacchino,  ex  eadcm  Societate."  (5)  "Juven- 
cius  de  Ratione  Discendi  et  Docendi."  The  great  authority  on 
everything  connected  with  the  Jesuits  is  Cretineau-Joly's  "  Historic 
de  la  Compagnie  de  Jesus."  Paris,  1844.  This  I  have  not  been 
able  to  cgnsult.  Sacchmi  and  Jouvency  were  both  historians  of  the 
Order.    The  formcf  died  ia  1625,  the  latter  in  1719. 


RATIO   STUDIO  RUM.  ^ 


shies.  Their  foundations  rapidly  extended  in  the 
Romance  countries,  except  in  France,  where  they 
were  long  in  overcoming  the  opposition  of  the  Regu- 
lar clergy  and  of  the  University  of  Paris.  Over  tlie 
Teutonic  and  Slavonic  countries  they  spread  their  in- 
fluence first  by  means  of  national  colleges  at  Rome, 
where  boys  of  the  different  nations  were  trained  as 
missionaries.  But,  in  time,  the  Jeusits  pushed  their 
camps  forward,  even  into  the  heart  of  the  enemy's 
country. 

The  system  of  education  to  be  adopted  in  all  the 
Jesuit  institutions  was  settled  during  the  Generalship 
of  Aquaviva.  In  1584  that  General  appointed  a 
School  Commission,  consisting  of  distinguished  Jes- 
uits from  the  various  countries  of  Europe.  These 
spent  nearly  a  year  in  Rome,  in  study  and  consulta- 
tion ;  and  the  fruit  of  their  labors  wajj  the  Ratio  at- 
que  Institutio  Studiorum  Societatis  yesu,  which  was 
put  forth  by  Aquaviva  and  the  Fourth  General  Assem 
bly.  By  this  code  the  Jesuit  schools  have  ever  since 
been  governed  ;  but  about  fifty  years  ago  it  was  re- 
vised with  a  view  to  modern  requirements. 

The  Jesuits  who  formed  the  Societas  Profcssa^  i.  e., 
those  who  had  taken  all  the  vows,  had  spent  from  fif- 
teen to  eighteen  years  in  preparation,  viz.,  two  years 
as  novices  and  one  as  approved  scholars,  during  which 
they  were  engaged  chiefly  in  religious  exercises,  three 
years  in  the  study  of  philosophy  and  mathematics, 
four  years  of  theology,  and,  in  the  case  of  the  more 
distinguished  students,  two  years  more  in  repetition 
and  private  theological  study.  At  some  point  in  this 
course,  mostly  after  the  philosophy,  the  students  were 


SCHOOLS   OP  THE  JESUtTS. 


sent,  for  a  while,  to  teach  in  the  elementary  schools.* 
The  method  of  teaching  was  to  be  learnt  in  the  train- 
ing schools,  called  Juvenats,  one  of  which  was 
founded  in  each  province. 

Few,  even  of  the  most  distinguished  students,  re- 
ceived dispensation  from  giving  elementary  instruc- 
tion. Salmeron  and  Bobadilla  performed  this  duty  in 
Naples,  Lainez-  in  Florence,  Borgia  (who  had  been 
Viceroy  of  Catalonia)  in  Cordova,  Canisius  in  Co- 
logne. 

During  the  time  the  Jesuit  held  his  post  as  teacher 
he  was  to  give  himself  up  entirely  to  the  work.  His 
studies  were  abandoned  ;  his  religious  exercises  cur- 
tailed. He  began  generally  with  the  lowest  form, 
and  went  up  the  school  with  the  same  pupils,  ad- 
vancing a  step  every  year,  as  in  the  system  now  com- 
mon in  Scotland.  But  some  forms  were  alwa3^s 
taught,  as  the  highest  is  in  Scotland,  by  the  same 
master,  who  remained  a  teacher  for  life. 

Great  care  was  to  be  taken  that  the  frequent 
changes  in  the  stafl  of  masters  did  not  lead  to  alter- 
ation in  the  conduct  of  the  school.  Each  teacher  was 
bound  to  carr}'  on  the  establisiied  instruction  by  the 

*  According  to  the  article  in  K.  A.  Schmid's  "  Encjclopiidie,"  tlie 
usual  course  was  this — the  two  years'  novitiate  was  over  hy  the 
time  tl  2  youth  was  between  fifteen  and  seventeen  He  then  en- 
tered a  Jesuit  College  as  Schoiasticus.  Here  he  learnt  literature 
and  ihetoric  for  two  years,  and  then  philosophy  (with  mathematics) 
for  three  more.  He  then  entered  on  his  Regency,  i.  e.,  he  went 
over  the  same  ground  as  a  teacher,  for  from  four  to  six  years. 
Then  followed  a  period  of  theological  study,  ending  with  a  year  of 
trial,  called  the  Tertiorat.  The  candidate  was  now  admitted  to 
Priest's  Orders,  and  took  the  vows  either  as  frofessor  qtiatuor  x>ot<h 
rum.,  or  as  a  coadjutor.  If  he  was  then  sent  back  to  teacli,  he  gave 
only  the  higher  instruction. 


ORGANIZATION. 


established  methods.  All  his  personal  peciiliaritiex 
and  opinions  were  to  be  as  much  as  possible  sup- 
pressed. To  secure  this  a  rigid  system  of  supervision 
was  adopted,  and  reports  were  furnished  by  each 
officer  to  his  immediate  superior.  Over  all  stood  the 
General  of  the  Order.  Next  came  the  Provincial,  ap- 
pointed by  the  General.  Over  the  school  itself  was 
the  Rector,  who  was  appointed  (for  three  years)  by 
the  General,  though  he  was  responsible  to  the  Pro- 
vincial, and  made  his  reports  to  him.  Next  came  the 
Prefect  of  Studies,  appointed,  not  by  the  Rector, 
but  by  the  Provincial.  The  teachers  were  -carefully 
watched  both  by  the  Rector  and  the  Prefect  of  Studies, 
and  it  was  the  duty  of  the  latter  to  visit  each  teachei 
in  his  class  at  least  once  a  fortnight,  to  hear  him  teach. 
The  other  authorities,  besides  the  masters  of  classes, 
were  usually  a  House  Prefect,  and  IVTonitors  selected 
from  the  boys,  one  in  each  form. 

The  school  or  college  was  to  be  built  and  maintained 
by  gifts  and  bequests  which  the  Society  might  receive 
for  this  purpose  only.  Their  instruction  was  always 
given  gratuitously.  When  sufficient  funds  were  raised 
to  support  the  officers,  teachers,  and  at  least  twelve 
scholars,  no  effort  was  to  be  made  to  increase  them ; 
but,  if  they  fell  short  of  this,  donations  were  to  be 
sought  by  begging  from  house  to  house.  Want  of 
money,  however,  was  not  a  difficulty  which  the  Jesuits 
often  experienced. 

The  pupils  in  the  Jesuit  schools  were  of  two  kinds  : 
1st,  those  who  were  training  for  the  OrdT.  and  had 
passed  the  Novitiate ;  2d,  the  externs,  who  were 
pupils  merely.  When  the  building  was  not  filled  by 
t\\e  first  of  these  (the  Scholastici,  or  Nostri.^  as  they 


SCHOOLS    OF   THE  JESUITS. 


are  called  in  the  Jesuit  writings),  other  pupils  were 
taken  in  to  board,  who  had  to  pay  simply  the  cost  of 
their  living,  and  not  even  this  unless  they  could  well 
affbrd  it.  Instruction,  as  I  said,  was  gratuitous  to 
all.  ♦'  Gratis  receive,  gratis  give,"  was  the  Society's 
rule,  so  they  would  neither  make  any  charge  for  in- 
struction, nor  accept  any  gift  that  was  burdened  with 
conditions. 

Faithful  to  the  tradition  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
the  Society  did  not  estimate  a  man's  worth  simply  ac- 
cording to  his  birth  and  outward  circumstances.  The 
Constitutions  expressly  laid  down  that  poverty  and 
mean  extraction  were  never  to  be  any  hindrance  to  a 
pupil's  admission;  and  Sacchini  says:  "Do  not  let 
any  favoring  of  the  nobility  interfere  with  the  care  of 
meaner  pupils,  since  the  birth  of  all  is  equal  in  Adam, 
and  the  inheritance  in  Christ."* 

The  externs  who  could  not  be  received  into  the 
building  were  boarded  in  licensed  houses,  which  were 
alw;ays  liable  to  an  unexpected  visit  from  the  Prefect 
.of  Studies. 

The  age  at  which  pupils  were  admitted  varied  from 
fourteen  to  twenty-four. 

The  school  was  arranged  in  five  classes  (since  in- 
creased to  eight),  of  which  the  lowest  usually  had  two 
divisions.  Parallel  classes  were  formed  wherever  the 
number  of  pupils  was  too  great  for  five  masters. 
The  names  given  to  the  several  di\isions  were  as  fol- 
low : 

*  "  Non  gratia  nobilium  ofHciat  cultarae  vulgariiim  :  cum  sint  na- 
lalcs  omi'M-n  pares  in  Adam  et  haereditates  quoque  pares  in 
Christo." 


MODE    OF   TEACHING. 


1.  Infima       \ 

2.  Media        V  Classis  Grainmaticae. 

3.  Suprema  j 

4.  Humanitas,  or  Syntaxis. 

5.  Rhetorica. 

JcAuIts  and  Protestants  alike  in  the  sixteenth  and 
rcventeenth  centuries  thought  of  no  other  instruction 
than  in  Latin  and  Greek,  or  rather  in  literature  based 
on  those  languai^es.  The  subject-matter  of  the  teach- 
ing in  the  Jesuit  schools  was  to  be  "  proeter  Gram- 
maticam,  quod  ad  Rhetoricam,.Poesim  et  Historiam 
pertinet."  Reading  and  writing  the  mother-tongue 
might  not  be  taught  without  special  leave  from  the 
Provincial.  Latin  was  as  much  as  possible  to  super- 
sede all  other  languages,  even  in  speaking;  and  noth- 
ing else  might  be  used  by  the  pupils  in  the  higher  forms 
on  any  day  but  a  holiday.* 

Although  many  good  school-books  were  written  by 
the  Jesuits,  a  great  part  of  their  teaching  was  given 
orally.  The  master  was,  in  fact,  a  lecturer,  who 
expounded  sometimes  a  piece  of  a  Latin  or  Greek 
author,  sometimes  the  rules  of  grammar.  The  pupils 
were  required  to  get  up  the  substance  of  these  lectures, 
and  to  learn  the  grammar-rules  and  parts  of  the  clas- 
sical authors  by  heart.  The  master  for  his  part  had 
to  bestow  great  pains  on  the  preparation  of  his  lec- 
tures.! 

*  Even  masters  were  not  to  be  much  addicted  to  their  own  lan- 
guage:  "Illud  cavendum  imprimis  juniori  magistro  ne  vernaculis 
.■virnium  libris  indulgeat,  prjEsertim  poetis,  in  quibus  maximam 
teinporis  ac  fortasse  morum  jacturam  faceret." — ^Jouvency. 

t  ♦'  Multum  proderit  si  magistcr  non  tumultuario  ac  subito  dicat, 
»cdqux  domi  cogitate  scripserit"-  -Ratio  Studci.,  quoted  hy  Schmid. 


8  SCHOOLS    OF    THE  JESUITS. 

Written  exercises,  translations,  etc.,  were  given  on 
every  day,  except  Saturday;  and  the  master  had,  if 
l^ossible,  to  go  over  each  one  with  its  writer  and  hia 
appointed  rival  or  tBinuhis. 

The  method  of  hearing  the  rules,  etc.,  committed 
to  memory  was  th  s  :  Certain  boys  in  each  class,  who 
were  called  Decurions,  repeated  their  task  to  the  mas- 
ter, and  then  in  his  presence  heard  the  other  boys 
repeat  theirs.  The  master  meanwhile  corrected  the 
written  exercises.* 

One  of  the  leading  peculiarities  in  the  Jesuits' 
system  was  the  pains  they  took  to  foster  emula- 
tion— '•  cotem  ingenii  puerilis,  calcar  indui-tri^e." 
For  this  purpose,  all  the  boys  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
school  were  arranged  in  pairs,  each  pair  being  rivals 
{<Binuli)  to  one  another.  Every  boy  was  to  be  con- 
stantly on  the  watch,  to  catch  his  rival  tripping,  and 
was  immediatel}'^  to  correct  him.  Besides  this  indi- 
vidual rivalry,  every  class  was  divided  into  two  hostile 
camps,  called  Rome  and  Carthage,  which  had  frequent 
pitched  battles  of  questions  on  set  subjects.  These 
were  the  "  Concertations,"  in  which  the  boys  some- 
times had  to  put  questions  to  the  opposite  camp,  some- 

And  Sacchini  says:  "Ante  omnia,  quae  quisque  docturus  est,  egre- 
gie  callcat.  Turn  enim  bene  docet,  et  facile  docet,  et  libenter  docet; 
bene,  quia  sine  errore;  facile,  quia  sine  labore;  libenter,  quia  ex 
pleno.  .  .  •  Memoriae  minimum  fidat:  instauret  eam  refricctque 
iterata  leclione  antequam  quicquam  doceat,  etiamsi  idem  sa:pe 
docuerit.  Occurret  non  raro  quod  addat  vel  commodius  proponat." 
*  In  a  school  (not  belonging  to  the  Jesuits)  where  this  plan  was 
adopted,  the  boys,  by  an  ingenious  contrivance,  managed  to  make 
it  work  very  smoothly.  The  boy  who  was  "hearing"  the  lesson 
held  the  book  upside  down  in  such  a  way  that  the  others  read  in- 
stead of  repeating  by  heart.  The  masters  finally  interfered  with 
this  arrangement. 


EMULATION. 


times  to  expose  erroneous  answers  when  the  questions 
were  asked  by  the  master*  (see  Appendix:  Class 
Matches,  p.  295).  Emulation,  indeed,  was  encour- 
aged to  a  point  where,  as  it  seems  to  me,  it  must  have 
endangered  the  good  fseling  of  the  boys  among  them- 
selves. Jouvency  mentions  a  practice  of  appointing 
mock  defenders  of  any  particularly  bad  exercise,  who 
should  make  the  author  of  it  ridiculous  by  their  ex- 
cuses ;  and  any  boy,  whose  work  was  very  discredit- 
able, was  placed  on  a  form  by  himself,  with  a  daily 
punishment,  until  he  could  show  that  some  one  de- 
served to  change  places  with  him. 

In  the  higher  classes,  a  better  kind  of  rivalry  was 
cultivated  by  means  of  "Academies,"  i.  e.  voluntary 
associations  for  study,  which  met  together,  under  the 
superintendence  of  a. master,  to  read  themes,  transla- 
tions, etc.,  and  to  discuss  passages  fro,m  the  classics. 
The  new  members  were  elected  b}'  the  old,  and  to  be 
thus  elected  was  a  much-coveted  distinction.  In  these 
Academies  the  clever  students  got  practice  for  the 
disputations,  which  formed  an  important  part  of  the 
school  work  of  the  higher  classes. 

There  was  a  vast  number  of  other  expedients  by 
which  the  Jesuits  sought  to  work  on  their  pupils' 
atnotir  pro^rc,  such  as,  on  the  one  hand,  the  weekly 
publication  of  ofi'enses  ;pcr  prcBconem,  and,  on  the 
other,  besides  prizes  (which  could  be  won  only  by  the 
externs),  titles,  and  badges  of  honor,  and  the  like.    I 

•  Since  the  above  was  written,  an  account  of  these  concertationa 
has  appeared  in  the  Rev.  R.  G.  Kingdon's  evidence  before  the 
Schools  Commission  (vol.  v.,  Answers  12,228  IT.).  Mr.  Kingdon, 
who  is  Prelect  of  Studies  at  Stonyhurst,  mentions  that  the  side 
which  wins  in  most  concertations  gets  an  extra  half-holiday. 


lO  iaCHOOLS   OF    THE  JESUITS. 

appears  that  in  each  class  a  kind  of  magistracy  was 
formed,  who,  as  praetors,  censors,  etc.,  had  in  some 
cases  to  try  delinquents.  "There  are,"  says  Jou- 
venc}',  "  hundreds  of  expedients  of  this  sort,  all  tend- 
ing to  sharpen  the  boys'  wits,  to  lighten  the  labor  of 
the  master,  and  to  free  him  from  tlie  invidious  and 
troublesome  necessity  of  punishing." 

The  school-hours  were  remarkably  short :  two  hours 
and  a  half  in  the  morning,  and  the  same  in  the  after- 
noon, with  a  whole  holiday  a  week  in  summer,  and  a 
half  holiday  in  winter.  The  time  was  spent  in  the 
first  form  after  the  following  manner  :  During  the  first 
half-hour,  the  master  corrected  the  exercises  of  the 
previous  day,  while  the  Decurions  heard  the  lesson 
which  had  been  learnt  by  heart.  Then  the  master 
heard  the  piece  of  Latin  which  he  had  explained 
on  the  previous  day.  With  this  construing  was  con- 
nected a  great  deal  of  parsing,  conjugating,  de- 
clining, etc.  The  teacher  then  explained  the  piece 
for  the  following  day,  which,  in  this  form,  was  never 
to  exceed  four  lines.  The  last  half-hour  of  the 
morning  was  spent  in  explaining  grammar.  This 
was  done  very  slowly  and  carefully.  In  the  words 
of  the  Ratio  Studd.:  "  Pluribus  diebus  fere  sin- 
gula praccepta  inculcanda  sunt."  For  the  first  hour 
of  the  afternoon,  the  master  corrected  exercises, 
and  the  boys  learnt  grammar.  If  there  was  time, 
the  master  put  questions  about  the  grammar  he  had 
explained  in  the  morning.  The  second  hour  was 
taken  up  with  more  explanations  of  grammar,  and  the 
school  closed  with  half  an  hour's  concertation,  or  the 
master  corrected  the  notes  which  the  pupils  had 
taken  during  the  day.     In  the  other  forms,  the  work 


LECTURES.  II 


was  very  similar  to  this,  except  that  Greek  was  added, 
and  also  in  the  higher  classes  a  little  mathematics. 

It  will  be  observed,  from  the  above  account,  that 
almost  all  the  strength  of  the  Jesuit  teaching  was 
thrown  into  the  study  of  ihe  Latin  language,  which 
was  to  be  used,  n6t  only  for  reading,  but  also  in 
writing  and  speaking.  But  some  amount  of  in- 
struction in  other  subjects,  especially  in  history  and 
geography,  was  given  in  explaining,  or  rather  lec- 
turing on,  the  classical  authors.  Jouvency  says  that 
this  lecture  must  consist  of  the  following  parts :  ist, 
the  general  meaning  of  the  whole  passage ;  2d,  the 
explanation  of  each  clause,  both  as  to  the  meaning 
and  construction ;  3d,  any  information,  such  as 
accounts  of  historical  events,  or  of  ancient  manners 
and  customs,  which  could  be  connected  with  the  text ; 
4th,  in  the  higher  forms,  applications  of  the  rules  of 
rhetoric  and  poetry ;  5th,  an  examination  of  the 
Latinity  ;  6th,  the  inculcation  of  some  moral  lesson. 
This  treatment  of  a  subject  he  illustrates  by  examples. 
Among  these  is  an  account  of  a  lesson  for  the  first 
(i.  e.  lowest)  class  in  the  Fable  of  the  Fox  and  the 
Mask  :  ist,  comes  the  argument  and  the  explanation 
of  words ;  2d,  the  grammar  and  parsing,  as  vulpes, 
a  substantive  of  the  third  declension,  etc.,  Vik& ;prolcs, 
cladcs,  etc.  (here  the  master  is  always  to  give  among 
his  examples  some  which  the  boys  already  know) ; 
3d,  comes  the  cruditio — something  about  foxes,  about 
tragedy,  about  the  brain  ;  and  hence  about  other  par»s 
of  the  head  ;  4th,  the  Latinity,  the  order  of  the  words, 
choice  of  words,  synonyms,  etc.  Then  the  sentences 
may  be  parodied  ;  other  suitable  substantives  may  be 
found  for  the  adjectives,  and  vice  versa,  and  every 


12  SCHOOLS    OF   THE  JESUITS. 

method  is  to  be  adopted  of  showing  the  boys  how  to 
use  the  words  they  have  learnt.  Lastly,  comes  the 
moral. 

The  practical  teacher  will  be  tempted  to  ask,  How 
is  the  attention  of  the  class  to  be  kept  up  whilst  all 
this  information  is  given?  I'his  the  Jesuits  did 
partly  by  punishing  the  inattentive.  Every  boy  was 
subsequently  required  to  reproduce  what  the  teacher 
had  said,  and  to  show  his  written  notes  of  it.  But 
no  doubt  this  matter  of  attention  was  found  a  diffi- 
culty. Jouvency  tells  the  teachers  to  break  off  from 
time  to  time  in  their  lectures,  and  to  ask  questions ; 
and  he  adds  :  "  Variae  sunt  artes  excitandae  attentionis 
quas  docebit  usus  et  sua  cuique  industria  suggeret." 

For  private  study,  besides  written  exercises  and 
Itarning  by  heart,  the  pupils  were  recommended  sub- 
jects to  get  up  in  their  own  time  ;  and  in  this,  and 
also  as  to  the  length  of  some  of  the  regular  lessons, 
they  were  permitted  to  decide  for  themselves.  Here, 
as  everywhere,  the  Jesuits  trusted  to  the  sense  of  honor 
and  emulation — those  who  did  extra  work  were  praised 
and  rewarded. 

One  of  the  maxims  of  this  system  was  :  "  Repetitio 
mater  studiorum."  Every  lesson  was  connected  with 
two  repetitions — one  before  it  began,  of  preceding 
work,  and  the  other  at  the  close,  of  the  work  just 
done.  Besides  this,  one  day  a  week  was  devoted 
entirely  to  repetition.  In  the  three  lowest  classes 
the  desire  of  laying  a  solid  foundation  even  led  to 
the  second  six  months  in  the  year  being  given  to 
again  going  over  the  work  of  the  first  six  months. 
B}'  this  means,  boys  of  extraordinary  ability  could 


EXAMINATIONS.  I3 


pass  through  these  forms  in  eighteen  months,  instead 
of  three  years. 

Thoroughness  in  work  was  the  one  thing  insisted 
on.  Sacchini  says  that  much  lime  should  be  spent 
in  going  over  the  more  important  things,  which  are 
*«  veluli  multorum  for.tes  et  capita  ;**  and  that  the 
master  should  prefer  to  teach  a  few  things  perfectly 
to  giving  indistinct  impressions  of  many  things.*  We 
should  remember,  however,  that  there  were  usually 
no  pupils  in  the 'Jesuit  schools  under  fourteen  years 
of  age.  Subjects  such  as  grammar  can  not,  by  any 
expenditure  of  time  and  trouble,  be  perfectly  taught 
to  children,  because  they  can  not  perfectly  understand 
them ;  so  that  the  Jesuit  thoroughness  is  not  always 
attainable. 

The  usual  duration  of  the  course  in  the  lower 
schools  was  six  years — i.  e.  one  ye^r  in  each  of  the 
four  lower  classes,  and  two  years  in  the  highest  class. 
Every  year  closed  with  a  very  formal  examination. 
Before  this  examination  took  place,  the  pupils  had 
lessons  in  the  manner  of  it,  so  that  they  might  come 
prepared,  not  only  with  a  knowledge  of  the  subjects, 
but  also  of  the  laws  of  writing  for  examination  ("  scri- 
bendi  ad  examen  leges").  The  examination  was 
conducted  by  a  commission  appointed  for  the  pur- 
pose, of  which  commission  the  Prefect  of  Studies  was 
an  ex-officio  member.  The  masters  of  the  classes, 
though  they  were  present,  and  could  make  remarks, 
were  not  of  the  examining  body.  For  the  vivi\  voce 
the  boys  were  ushered  in,  three  at  a  time,  before  the 
solemn   conclave.     The  results  of  the  examination, 

♦"Stude  potius  ut  pauciora  dure  distinctequc  percipiant,  quann 
obscure  atque  confuse  pluribus  imbuantur." 


14  SCHOOLS    OF   THE  JESUITS. 

both  written  and  verbal,  were  joined  with  the  records 
of  the  work  done  in  the  past  year ;  and  the  names  of 
those  pupils  who  had  distinguished  themselves  were 
then  published  in  order  of  merit,  but  the  poll  was  ar- 
ranged alphabetically,  or  according  to  birthplace. 

As  might  be  expected,  the  Jesuits  were  to  be  very 
careful  of  the  moral  and  religious  training  of  their 
pupils.  "  Quam  maxime  in  vitae  probitate  ac  bonis 
artibus  doclrinaque  proficiant  ad  Dei  gloriam."  {Ratio 
Sttidd.^  quoted  by  Schmid.)  And  Sacchini  tells  the 
master  to  remember  how  honorable  his  office  is ;  as 
it  has  to  do,  not  with  grammar  only,  but  also  with  the 
science  and  practice  of  a  Christian  and  religious  life  : 
"  atque  eo  quidem  ordine  ut  ipsa  ingenii  erudilio  sit 
expolitio  morum,  et  humana  literatura  divinae  ancil- 
lelur  sapientiae."  * 

Each  lesson  was  to  begin  with  prayer  or  the  sign 
of  the  cross.  The  pupils  were  to  hear  mass  every 
morning,  and  were  to  be  urged  to  frequent  confession 
and  receiving  of  the  Holy  Communion. 

The  bodily  health  also  was  to  be  carefully  attended 
to.  The  pupils  were  not  to  study  too  much  or'  too 
long  at  a  time.  Nothing  was  to  be  done  for  a  space 
of  from  one  to  two  hours  after  dinner.  On  holidays 
excursions  were  made  to  farms  in  the  country. f 

*  Sacchini  writes  in  a  very  high  tone  on  this  subject.  The  follow- 
ing passage  is  striking:  "  Gravitatem  sui  muneris  siimmasque  op- 
portunitatcs  assidue  animo  verset  (magistcr)."  .  .  .  "'Puerilis 
institutio  mundi  renovatio  est;'  haec  gymnasia  Dei  castra  sunt,  hie 
bonorum  omnium  semina  latent.  Video  solum  fundamentumque 
reipublicae  quod  multi  non  vidcant  interpositu  terrae."  Perhaps  he 
had  read  of  Malancthon's  address  to  a  school :  "  Hail  reverend 
divines,  learned  doctors,  worshipful  magistrates/*  etc 

t  Circa  illorum  valetudinem  peculiar!  cura  animadvertat  (Rector) 


CAUSE   OF   THEIR   SUCCESS.  I5 

Punishments  were  to  be  as  light  as  possible,  and  ^ 
the  master  was  to  shut  his  eyes  to  offenses  whenever 
he  thought  he  might  do  so  with  safely.  Grave  of- 
fenses were  to  be  visited  with  flogging,  performed  by 
a  '*  corrector,"  who  was  not  a  member  of  the  Order. 
Where  flogging  did  not  have  a  good  effect  the  pupil 
^vas  to  be  expelled. " 

The  dry  details  into  which  I  have  been  drawn  by 
faithfully  copying  the  manner  of  the  Ratio  Studio- 
ruin  may  seem  to  the  reader  to  afford  no  nnswer  to 
the  question  which  naturally  suggests  itself — To  what 
did  the  school-system  of  the  Jesuits  owe  its  enormous 
pupularity?  But  in  part,  at  least,  these  details  do  af- 
ford an  answer.  They  show  us  that  the  Jesuits  were 
intensely  practical.  The  title  Ratio  Studiorum  has 
been  called  a  misnomer,  for  the  book  so  designated 
hardly  contains  a  single  principle ;  but  what  it  does 
is  this — it  points  out  a  perfectly  attainable  goal,  and 
carefully  defines  the  road  by  which  that  goal  is  to  be 
approached.  For  each  class  was  prescribed  not  onl}' 
the  work  to  be  done,  but  also  the  end  to  be  kept  in 
view.  Thus  method  reigned  throughout; — perhaps 
not  the  best  method,  as  the  object  to  be  attained  was 
assuredly  not  the  highest  object ;  but  the  method, 
such  as  it  was,  was  applied  with  undeviating  exact- 
ness. In  this  particular  the  Jesuit  schools  contrasted 
strongly  with  their  rivals  of  old,  as  indeed  with  the 
ordinary  school  of  the  present  day.  The  Head  Mas- 
ter, who  is  to  the  modern  English  scliool  what  the 

ut  et  in  labsribus  mentis  modum  servent,  et  in  lis  qute  ad  corpus 
pertinent,  leligiosa  commoditate  tractentur,  utdiutius  in  studiis  per- 
sew'iaie  tarn  in  litteris  addiscendis  quam  in  eisdem  exercendis  ad 
Dei  gloriam  possint." — Ratio  Studd.,  quoted  by  Schmid. 


l6  SCHOOLS    OF   THE  JESUITS. 


General,  Provincial,  Rector,  Prefect  of  Studies,  and 
Ratio  Studio  rum  combined  were  to  a  school  of  the 
Jesuits,  has  perhaps  no  standard  in  view  up  to  which 
the  boy  should  have  been  brought  when  his  school 
course  is  completed.*  The  masters  of  forms  teach 
just  those  portions  of  their  subject  in  which  they 
themselves  are  interested,  in  any  way  that  occurs  to 
them,  with  by  no  means  uniform  success;  so  that 
when  two  forms  are  examined  with  the  same  exami- 
nation paper,  it  is  no  very  uncommon  occurrence  for 
the  lower  to  be  found  superior  to  the  higher.  It  is, 
perhaps,  to  be  expected  that  a  course  in  which  uni- 
form method  tends  to  a  definite  goal  would  on  the 
whole  be  more  successful  than  one  in  which  a  boy 
has  to  accustom  himself  by  turns  to  half-a-dozen  dif- 
ferent methods,  invented  at  haphazard  by  individual 
masters  with  different  aims  in  view,  if  indeed  the} 
have  any  aim  at  all. 

I  have  said  that  the  object  which  the  Jesuits  pro- 
posed in  their  teaching  was  not  the  highest  object. 
They  did  not  aim  at  developing  all  the  faculties  of 
their  pupils,  but  merely  the  receptive  and  reproduc- 
tive faculties.  When  the  young  man  had  acquired  a 
thorough  mastery  of  the  Latin  language  for  all  pur- 
poses, when  he  was  well  versed  in  the  theological  and 
philosophical  opinions  of  his  preceptors,  when  he  was 
skillful  in  dispute,  and  could  make  a  brilliant  display 
from  the  resources  of  a  well-stored  memory,  he  had 
reached  the  highest  point  to  which  the  Jesuits  sought 

*As  the  recent  Commission  has  pointed  out,  the  Head  Master 
often  thinks  of  nothing  but  tlie  attainment  of  Universit\  honors, 
even  -when  the  great  majority  of  his  pupils  are  not  going  to  the  Uni- 
versity. 


KIND    TREATMKNT    OF    PUPILS.  I? 

to  lead  him.*  Originality  and  independence  of  mind, 
Jove  of  truUi  (or  its  own  sake,  the  power  of  refieciing, 
and  of  forming  correct  judgments,  were  not  mcrel} 
neglected — they  were  suppressed  «!n  the  Jesuits'  s)s 
tern.  But  in  what  they  attempted  they  were  emi- 
nently successful,  and  theii  success  went  a  long  waj 
toward  securing  their  popularity. f 

Their  popularity  was  due,  moreover,  to  the  mtans 

•The  advantages  of  learning  by  heart  arc  twofold,  says  Sacchini  : 
'•  Primiim  nicmoriam  ipsam  perficiunt,  quod  est  in  totant  jctatem 
ad  univeria  negotia  iniustimabile  commodum.  Deindc  siippellecti- 
Icm  inde  pulcherriinani  congregant  verborum  ac  rcrum  :  qua;  item, 
quamdiu  vlvant,  usui  futura  sit:  cum  q use  Ktate  ilia  inscderint  in- 
dolcbiiia  bolcant  permanere.  Magnam  itaque.  ubi  adolcverint,  gra- 
tiam  Pr»ceptori  lialicbuiit,  cui  memoria;  debebunt  profeclum,  mag- 
namquc  iietitiam  capicnt  invenientes  quodammodo  domi  thesauruni 
quern,  in  relate  cieteroqui  parum  fructuosa,  propn  non  sentientes 
panuint.  Enim  vero  quam  sa:pe  viros  graves  atque  prastantcs 
magnoque  jam  natu  videre  et  audire  est,  duiA  in  docta  ac  nobili 
corona  jucundissime  qusedam  promunt  ex  iis  qu»  pucri  condide- 
runt?"  Tiie  master,  he  says,  must  point  out  to  Iiis  pupils  the  ad- 
vantages we  derive  from  memory;  that  we  only  know  and  possess 
tliat  which  we  retain;  that  this  can  not  be  taken  from  us,  but  is 
with  us  always,  and  is  always  ready  for  use — a  living  library,  which 
may  be  studied  even  in  the  dark.  Boys  should  therefore  be  en- 
rouraged  to  run  over  in  their  minds,  or  to  say  aloud,  what  they  have 
learnt,  as  often  as  opportunity  offers,  as  when  they  are  walking  or 
are  by  themselves:  "  Ita  numquam  in  otio  futuros  otiosos;  ila  mi- 
nus ifore  solos  cum  soli  erunt,  consuctudine  fruentes  sapienturn. 
Denique  curandum  erit  ut  selecta  quxdam  ediscant  qjje 
deinde  in  quovis  studionim  genere  ac  vita  fere  omni  usui  sint  lu- 
tura." — Cap.  viii. 

t  Ranke,  speaking  of  the  success  of  the  Jesuit  schools,  says  :  "  ll 
was  found  that  young  persons  learned  more  under  them  in  half  a 
year  than  with  others  in  two  years.  Even  Protestants  called  back 
their  children  from  distant  schools,  and  put  them  under  the  care  o( 
the  Jesuits." — Ht's^.  of  Pofes,  book  v.,  p.  13S.     Kelly's  Trans. 

2 


l8  SCHOOLS   OF   THE  JESUITS. 


tjmployed,  a»  well  as  to  the  result  attained.  The 
Jesuit  teachers  were  to  Icad^  not  drive  their  pupils, 
to  make  *'  disciplinarn  non  modo  tolerabilem,  sed 
etiam  amabilem."*  Sacchini  expresses  himself  very 
forcibly  on  this  subject.  '*  It  is,"  says  he,  "  the  un- 
varying decision  of  wise  men,  whether  in  ancient  or 
modern  times,  that  the  instruction  of  youth  will 
always  be  best  when  it  is  pleasantest :  whence  this 
application  of  the  word  ludus.  The  tenderness  of 
youth  requires  of  us  that  we  should  not  overstrain  it, 
its  innocence  that  we  should  abstain  from  harshness. 
.  .  .  That  which  enters  into  willing  ears  the  mind  as 
it  were  runs  to  welcome,  seizes  with  avidit}',  carefully 
stows  away,  and  faithfully  preserves."*  The  pupils 
were  therefore  to  be  encouraged  in  every  way  to  take 
kindly  to  their  learning.  With  this  end  in  view  (and 
no  doubt  other  objects  also),  the  masters  were  care- 
fully to  seek  the  boys' affections.  "  When  pupils  love 
the  master,"  says  Sacchini,  "  they  will  soon  love  his 
teaching.  Let  him,  therefore,  show  an  interest  in 
everything  that  concerns  them  and  not  merely  in 
their  studies.  Let  him  rejoice  with  those  that  re- 
joice', and  not  disdain  to  weep  with  those  that  weep. 
After  the  example  of  the  Apostle  let  him  become  a 
little  one  amongst  little  ones,  that  he  may  make  them 
adult  in  Christ,  and  Christ  adult  in  them.  .  .  Let  him 


*  "  Sapientum  hoc  omnium  sen  veterum  seu  lecentum  constans 
judicium  est,  institutionem  puerilem  turn  fore  optimam  cum  jucun- 
dissima  fuerit,  inde  enim  et  ludum  vocari.  Meretur  oetatis  teneri- 
tas  nt  neoneretui  :  meretur  innocentia  utei  parcatur.  .  .  .  Qiiae 
libentibus  auribus  instillantur,  ad  ea  velut  occurrit  animus,  avide 
susr.init.  studiose  recondit,  fideliter  ssrvat." 


WORK   NOT   TOO    DIFFICULT.  I9 

unite  the  grave  kindness  and  authority  of  a  father  with 
a  mother's  tenderness.'** 

In  order  that  learning  might  be  pleasant  to  the 
pupils,  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  not  be  over- 
'asked.  To  avoid  this  the  master  had  to  study  the 
character  and  capacity  of  each  boy  in  his  class,  and 
to  keep  a  book  with  all  particulars  about  him,  and 
marks  from  one  to  six  indicating  proficiency.  Thus 
the  master  formed  an  estimate  of  what  should  be  re- 
quired, and  the  amount  varied  considerably  with  the 
pupil,  though  the  quality  of  the  work  was  always  to 
be  good. 

Not  only  was  the  work  not  to  be  excessive,  it  was 
never  to  be  of  great  difficulty.  Even  the  grammar 
was  to  be  made  as  easy  and  attractive  as  possible. 
"  I  think  it  a  mistake,"  says  Sacchini,  "  to  introduce 
at  an  early  stage  the  more  thorny  difficulties  of  gram- 
mar :  .  .  .  for  when  the  pupils  have  become 
familiar  with  the  easier  parts,  use  will,  by  degrees, 
make  the  more   difficult   clear  to  them.     His   mind 

* "  Conciliabit  facild  stiidiis  qiios  primum  sibi  conciliarit.  Del 
itaque  oinnem  operaTn  illorum  eiga  sc  observantionem  ut  sapienter 
colligat  el  contiiienter  eniitriat.  Ostendat,  sibi  res  corum  cura;  ess*" 
non  solum  qua  ad  animunt  sed  etiam  quie  ad  alia  pertinent.  Gau- 
deat  cum  gaudentibus,  nee  dedignetur  fiere  cum  flcntibus.  Instar 
Apostoli  inter  parvulos  parvulus  fiat  quo  magnos  in  Christo  et  mag- 
num in  eis  Christum  efficiat.  .  .  .  Seriam  comitatem  et  pater- 
nain  gravitatem  cum  materna  benignrtate  permisccat."  Unfortu 
nately,  the  Jesuit's  kind  manner  loses  its  value  from  being  due  nol 
so  much  to  kind  feeling  as  to  some  ulterior  object,  or  to  a  rule  of 
the  Order.  I  think  it  is  Jouvency  who  recommends  that  when  a 
boy  is  absent  from  sickness  or  other  sufBcient  reason,  the  mastet 
should  send  daily  to  inquire  alter  him,  because  the  parents  -will  bt 
f  leased  by  such  attention.  When  the  motive  of  the  inquiry  is  su«- 
p<:cted,  the  parents  will  be  pleased  no  longer. 


lO  SCHOOLS    OF   THE  JESUITS. 


expanding  and  his  judgment  ripening  as  he  grows 
older,  the  pupil  will  often  see  for  hin^self  that  which 
he  could  hardly  be  made  to  see  by  others.  Moreover; 
in  reading  an  author,  examples  of  grammatical  diffi- 
culties will  be  more  easily  observed  in  connection  with 
the  context,  and  will  make  more  impression  on  the 
mind,  than  if  they  are  taught  in  an  abstract  form  ly 
themselves.  Let  them,  then,  be  carefully  explained 
whenever  they  occur."* 

In  collecting  these  particulars  about  the  Jesuit 
schools,  I  have  considered  not  how  this  or  that  miglit 
be  used  in  attacking  or  defending  the  Order,  but, 
simply,  what  would  be  of  most  interest  to  those  who 
are  engaged  in  education. 

No  other  school  system  has  been  built  up  by  the 
united  eflorts  of  so  many  astute  intellects ;  no  other 
system  has  meet  with  so  great  success,  or  attained 
such  wide-spread  influence.  It  deserves,  therefore, 
our  careful  consideration ;  and,  however  little  we 
may  approve  that  system,  and  wish  to  imitate  it  as 
a  whole,  it  may  suggest  to  us  not  a  few  useful  reflec- 
tions on  our  own  practice  ;  may  lead  us  to  be  clearer 
in  our  aims ;  and  to  value  more  highly  a  well-organized 
plan  of  instruction — without  which  even  humble  aims 
will  mostly  prove  unattainable. 

• "  Errnrem  existimo  statiin  initio  spinosiores  quasdam  gram- 
maticse  diHicultates  inculcare  .  .  .  cum  cniin  planioribiis  in- 
sueverint  dilHciiiora  paiilatiin  usus  explaiiabit.  Qiiin  et  capacior 
tiubinde  mens  ac  fermius  cum  uilatc  judicium,  quod  alio  moniitrajjic 
pcra;gi"e  unquam  perccpisset  per  sese  non  raro  intclliget.  txcmpia 
quuque  talium  rerum  dum  praclegitur  autor  facilius  in  oralionis  con- 
textu  agnoscentur  et  penctrabunt  in  animos  quam  si  solilaria  ct  ab- 
scissa proponantur.  Quamobrcm  faciendum  erit  ul  quotijs  occur- 
runt  diligenter  enucleentur." 


II. 

ASCHAM,  MONTAIGNE,  RATICH,  MILTON. 


Masters  and  scholars  who  sigh  over  what  seem  to 
Ihem  the  intricacies  and  obscurities  of  the  "Head- 
masters' Primer  "  may  find  some  consolation  in  think- 
ing that,  after  all,  matters  might  have  been  worse, 
and  that  their  fate  is  enviable  indeed  compared  with 
that  of  the  students  of  Latin  4CX)  years  ago.  Did  the 
reader  ever  open  the  *'Doctrinale"  of  Alexander  de 
Villa  Dei,  which  was  the  grammar  in  general  use 
from  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  to  the  end  of  the 
fifteenth  century?  (v.  Appendix,  p.  296.)  If  so,  he  is 
aware  how  great  a  step  toward  simplicity  was  made 
by  our  grammatical  reformers,  Lily,  Colct,  and  Eras- 
mus. Indeed,  those  whom  we  now  regard  as  the 
forgers  of  our  chains  were,  in  their  own  opinion  anu 
that  of  their  contemporaries,  the  champions  of  free- 
dom (Appendix,  p.  297). 

I  have  given  elsewhere  (Appendix,  p.  299)  a  re- 
markable passage  from  Colet,  in  which  he  recom- 
mends the  leaving  of  I'ules  and  the  study  of  exam- 
ples in  good  Latin  authors.  Wolsey  also,  in  his  di- 
rections to  the  masters  of  Ipswich  School  (dated 
152S),  proposes  that  the  boys  siiould  be  exercised  ii 
the  eight  parts  of  speech  in  the  first  form,  and  should 
begin  to  speak  Latin  and  translate  from  English  into 
Latin  in  the  second.  If  the  masters  tliink  fit,  they 
may  also  let  the  pupils  read  Lily's  "Carmen  Moni- 

(2O 


22  ASCHAM,    MONTAIGNE,    RATICH,    MILTON. 

torium,"  or  Cato's  "  Distichs."  From  the  third  up- 
ward a  regular  course  of  classical  authors  was  to  be 
read,  and  Lily's  rules  were  to  be  introduced  by  de- 
grees. "Although  I  confess  such  things  are  neces- 
sary," writes  Wolsey,  *'  yet,  as  far  as  possible,  we 
could  wish  them  so  appointed  as  not  to  occupy  tiie 
more  valuable  part  of  the  day."  Only  in  the  sixth 
form,  the  highest  but  two,  Lily's  syntax  was  to  be  be- 
gun. In  these  schools  the  boys'  time  was  wholl}'  taken 
up  with  Latin,  and  the  speaking  of  Latin  was  enforced 
even  in  play  hours,  so  we  see  that  anomalies  in  the 
Accidence  as  taught  in  the  As  in  prcBscnti  were  nol 
given  till  the  boys  had  been  some  time  using  the  lan- 
guage ;  and  the  syntax  was  kept  until  they  had  a 
good  practical  knowledge  of  the  usages  to  which  the 
rules  referred.* 

These  great  men,  however,  though  they  showed  the 
interest  they  took  in  the  instruction  of  the  young,  and 
the  insight  they  had  into  the  art  of  teaching,  never 
attempted  a  perfect  treatise  on  the  subject.  This  was 
done  some  fifty  years  afterward  by  the  celebrated 
Roger  Ascham  in  his  "  Scholemaster."  If  laudari  a 
laudatis  is  any  test  of  merit,  we  may  assume  that  this 
book  is  still  deserving  of  attention.      "It  contains, 

*  In  another  matter,  also,  we  find  that  the  masters  of  these  schools 
subsequently  departed  widely  from  the  intention  of  the  great  men 
who  fostered  the  revival  of  learning.  Wolsey  writes  :  "Imprimis 
hoc  unum  admonendum  censuerimus,  ut  neque  plagis  severioribus 
neque  vultuosis  minis,  aut  ulla  tyrannidis  specie,  tenera  pubes  efli- 
cit'ur :  hac  enim  injuria  ingenii  alacritas  aut  extingui  autmtgnaex 
ptrte  oblundi  solet."  Again,  he  says:  "  In  ipsis  studiis  sic  volup- 
Ws  est  intermiscenda  ut  puer  ludum  potius  discendi  quam  laboram 
^xistimet."  He  adds :  "  Cavendum  erit  ne  immodica  contentione 
ingenia  discentium  obruantur  aut  lectione  prolonga  defatigentui ; 
utraque  enim  juxta  ofFenditur." 


♦' THE   SCIIOLEMASTER."  2^ 


perhaps,"  says  Dr.  Johnson,  "the  best  advice  that 
was  ever  given  for  the  study  of  languages."*  And 
Mr.  J.  E.  B.  Mayor  (no  mean  authority)  ventures  on 
a  still  stronger  assertion.  "This  book  sets  forth," 
says  he,  ^^  the  or.ly  sound  method  of  acquiring  a 
dead  language.^''  Mr.  George  Long  has  also  borne 
witness  on  the  same  side. 

And  yet,  I  believe,  few  teachers  of  the  dead  lan- 
guages have  read  Ascham's  book,  or  know  the  method 
he  proposes.  I  will,  therefore,  give  an  account  of  it, 
as  nearly  as  I  can  in  Ascham's  own  words. 

Latin  is  to  be  taught  as  follows :  First,  let  the 
child  learn  the  eight  parts  of  speech,  and  then  the 
right  joining  together  of  substantives  with  adjectives, 
the  noun  with  the  verb,  the  relative  with  the  ante- 
cedent. After  the  concords  are  learned,  let  the  mas- 
ter take  Sturm's  selection  of  Cicero's  Epistles,  and 
read  them  after  this  manner:  "first,  let  him  teach 
the  child,  cheerfully  and  plainly,  the  cause  and  matter 
of  the  letter;  then,  let  him  construe  it  into  English 
so  oft  as  the  child  may  easily  carry  away  the  under- 
standing of  it;  lastly^  parse  it  over  perfectly.  This 
done,  then  let  the  child  by  and  by  both  construe 
and  parse  it  over  again  ;  so  that  it  may  appear  that 
the  child  doubteth  in  nothing  that  his  master  has 
taught  him  before.  After  this,  the  child  must  take 
a  paper  book,  and,  sitting  in  some  place  where  no 
man  shall  prompt  him,  by  himself  let  him  transliite 
into  English  his  former  lesson.  Then  showing  it  to 
his  master,  let  the  master  take  from  him  his  Latin 
book,  and  pausing  an  hour  at  the  least,  then  let  the 

*L.ife  of  Ascham. 


24  ASCHAM,    MONTAIGNE,    RATICH,   MILTON. 

child  translate  his  own  English  into  Latin  again  in 
another  paper   book.     When    the    child   bringeth    it 
turned  into  Latin,  the  master  must  compare  it  with 
Tully's  book,  and  lay  them  both  together,  and  where 
the  child   doth  well,  praise  him,  where  amiss  point 
out  why  Tully's  use  is  belter.     Thus  the  child  will 
easil}'  acquire  a  knowledge  of  grammar,  and  also  the 
ground    of    almost   all   the   rules  that   are  so  busily 
taught  by  the  master,  and  so  hardly  learned  by  the 
scholar  in  all  common  schools."     "We  do  not  con- 
temn rules,  but  we  gladly  teach  rules  ;  and  teach  them 
more  plainly,  sensibly,  and  orderly,  than  they  be  com- 
monly taught  in    common  schools.      For   when   the 
master  shall  compare  Tully's  book  with  the  scholars' 
translation,  let  the  master  at  the  first  lead  and  teach 
the  scholar  to  join  the  rules  of  his  grammar  book 
with    the  examples  of  his   present   lesson,  until    the 
scholar  by  himself  be  able  to  fetch  out  of  his  gram- 
mar every  rule  for  every  example  ;  and  let  the  gram- 
mar book  be  ever  in  the  scholars'  hand,  and  also  used 
by  him  as  a  dictionary  for  every  present  use.     This  is 
a  lively  and  perfect  way  of  teaching  of  rules ;  where 
the  common  way  used  in  common  schools  to  read 
the  grammar  alone  by  itself  is  tedious  for  the  master, 
hard  for  the  scholar,  cold  and  uncomfortable  for  them 
both.''     And  elsewhere  Aseham  sa3's  :  "Yea  I  do  wish 
that  all  rules  for  young  scholars  were  shorter  than 
they  be.     For,   without  doubt,  grammatica  itself  is 
sooner  and  surer  learned  by  examples  of  good  authors 
Ihan  by  the  naked  rules  of  grammarians." 

"  As  you  perceive  your  scholar  to  go  better  on  away, 
first,  with  understanding  his  lesson  more  quickly, 
with    parsing   more    readily,    with    translating    more 


ASCMAMS   METHOD.  25 


speedily  and  perfectly  than  he  was  wont ;  after,  give 
him  longer  lessons  to  translate,  and,  withal,  begin  to 
teach  him,  both  in  Jiouns  and  verbs,  what  '\?>  proprium 
and  what  is  translatum,  what  syiioiiymiiin,  what  di- 
versufn,  which  be  coniraria,  and  which  be  most  nota- 
ble phrases^  in  all  his  lectures,  as — 

Proprium      .     .     Rex  sepMltus  est  inagnifice. 

Translatum  .     .     Cum  i(lo  principe,  scpulta  est  ct  gloria  et  sm 

lus  rcipublicie. 
Synonyma  Knsis,  gladius,  laudare,  ;ru;dicare. 

Diversa  Diligere,  amare,  colere,  cxardescere,  inimicus, 

hoslis. 
Contraria      .     .     Acerbum  ct  luctuosum  helium,  dulcis  et  Ixta 

pax. 
Phrases    .     .     .     Dare  verba,  abjicere  obedientiam." 

Every  lesson  is  to  be  thus  carefully  analyzed,  and 
entered  under  these  heading  in  a  third  MS.  book. 

All  this  time,  though  the  boy  is  to  work  over  some 
Terence,  he  is  to  speak  no  Latin.  Subsequently  the 
master  must  translate  easy  pieces  from  Cicero  into 
English,  and  the  boy,  without  having  seen  the  original 
passage,  is  required  to  put  the  English  into  Latin. 
His  translation  must  then  be  carefully  compared  with 
the  original,  for  ''of  good  heed-taking  springelh  chiefly 
knowledge." 

In  the  Second  Book  of  the  "  Scholemasler,"  Ascham 
discusses  the  various  branches  of  tlie  study  then 
common,  viz:  i.  Translatio  linguarum ;  2.  Para- 
phrasis;  3.  Metaphrasis ;  4.  Epitome;  j.  Imitatio; 
6.  Declamalio.  He  does  not  lay  much  stress  on  any 
of  these,,  except  translatio  and  imitatio.  Of  the  last 
he  says  :  "  All  languages,  both  learned  and  mother^ 
tongue,  be  gotten,  and  gotten  only  by  imitation.  For,  \ 
as  ye  use  to  hear,  so  ye  use  to  speak ;  if  ye  hear  no 


26  ASCHAM,    M0NTAIGxV3,    UATICH,    MILTON. 

othei',  ye  speak  not  yourself;  and  whom  ye  only  hear, 
l_Di  them  ye  only  learn."  But  translation  was  his 
great  instrument  for  all  kinds  of  learning.  "  The 
tianslation,"  he  says,  "  is  the  most  common  and  most 
commendable  of  all  other  exercises  for  youth  ;  most 
common,  for  all  your  constructions  in  grammar 
schools  be  nothing  else  but  translations,  but  because 
they,  be  not  double  translations  (as  I  do  require)  they 
bring  forth  but  simple  and  single  commodity  :  and 
because  also  they  lack  the  daily  use  of  writing,  which 
is  the  only  thing  that  breedeth  deep  root,  both  in  the 
wit  for  good  understanding  and  in  the  memory  for 
sure  keeping  of  all  that  is  learned ;  most  commend- 
able also,  and  that  by  the  judgment  of  all  authors 
which  entreat  of  these  exercises." 

After  quoting  Pliny,*  he  says  :  "  You  perceive  how 
Pliny  teacheth  that  fcy  this  exercise  of  double  trans- 
lating is  learned  easily,  sensibly,  by  little  and  little, 
not  only  all  the  hard  congruities  of  grammar,  the 
choice  of  ablest  words,  the  right  pronouncing  of  words 
and  sentences,  comeliness  of  figures,  and  forms  fit  for 
every  matter  and  proper  for  every  tongue  :  but,  that 
which  is  greater  also,  in  marking  daily  and  following 
diligently  thus  the  footsteps  of  the  best  authors,  like 
invention  of  arguments,  like  order  in  disposition,  like 
utterance    in   elocution,    is  easily    gathered  up ;  and 

♦  "Utile  imprimis  et  multi  prjEcipiunt  vel  ex  GrEeco  in  Latinum 
vel  ex  Latino  vertere  in  Griecum;  quo  gencre  exercitationis  pro- 
prietas  splendorque  verborum,  copia  figurarum,  vis  explicandi. 
praeterea  imitatione  optimorum  similia  inveniendi  facultas  puratur; 
simul  quae  legentem  fefeilissent  transferentem  fugere  non  possunt. 
Intelligentia  ex  hoc  et  judicium  acquiritur." — Epp.  vii.  9,  §  i.  Sc 
the  passage  stands  in  Pliny.  Ascham  quotes,  "«?/  ex  Graeco  in 
Latinum  et  ex  Latino  vertere  in  Graecum,"  with  otht-.   -ariationf* 


STUDY   OF   A    MODEL    BOOK.  I'J 

hereby  your  scholar  shall  be  brought  not  only  to  like 
eloquence,  but  also  to  all  true  understanding  and 
rightful  judgment,  both  for  writing  and  speaking." 

Again  he  says:  "For  speedy  attaining,  I  durst 
venture  a  good  wager  if  a  scholar  in  whom  is  aptness, 
love,  diligence,  and  constancy,  would  but  translate 
after  this  sort  some  little  book  in  Tully  (as  '  De 
Senectute,'  with  two  Epistles,  the  first  *Ad  Quintum 
Fratrem,'  the  other  'Ad  Lentulum  '),  that  scholar,  1 
say,  should  come  to  a  better  knowledge  in  the  Latin 
tongue  than  the  most  part  do  that  spend  from  five 
to  six  years  in  tossing  all  the  rules  of  grammat 
in  common  schools."  After  quoting  the  instance  of 
Dion  Prussaeus,  who  came  to  great  learning  and 
utterance  by  reading  and  following  only  two  books, 
the  "Phasdo"  and  "Demosthenes  de  Falsa  Lega- 
tione,"  he  goes  on:  "And  a  better  and  nearer  ex- 
ample herein  may  be  our  most  noble  Queen  Elizabeth, 
who  never  took  yet  Greek  nor  Latin  grammar  in  her 
hand  after  the  first  declining  of  a  noun  and  a  verb ; 
but  only  by  this  double  translating  of  Demosthenes 
and  Isocrates  daily,  without  missing,  every  forenoon, 
and  likewise  some  part  of  Tully  every  aftefnoon,  for 
the  space  of  a  year  or  two,  hath  attained  to  such  a 
perfect  understanding  in  both  the  tongues,  and  to 
such  a  ready  utterance  of  the  Latin,  and  that  with 
such  a  judgment,  as  there  be  few  now  in  both  Uni- 
versities or  elsewhere  in  England  that  be  in  both 
tongues  comparable  with  Her  Majesty."  Aschara's 
authority  is  indeed  not  conclusive  on  this  point,  as 
he,  in  praising  the  Queen's  attainments,  was  vaunting 
his  own  success  as  a  teacher,  and,  moreover,  if  he 
flattered  her  he  could  plead  prevailing  custom.     Bui 


28  ASCHAM,    MONTAIGNE,    RATICH,    MILTON. 

we  have,  I  believe,  abundant  evidence  that  Elizabeth 
was  an  accomplished  scholar. 

Before  I  leave  Ascham  I  must  make  one  more 
quotation,  to  which  I  shall  more  than  once  have  oc- 
casion to  refer.  Speaking  of  the  plan  of  double 
translation,  he  says  :  --Ere  the  scholar  have  construed, 
parsed,  twice  translated  over  by  good  advisement, 
•marked  out  his  six  points  b}'  skillful  judgment,  he 
shall  have  necessary  occasion  to  read  over  every 
lecture  a  dozen  times  at  the  least;  which  because  he 
shall  do  always  in  order,  he  shall  do  it  always  with 
pleasure.  .  .  .  And  pleasure  allureth  love ;  love  hath 
lust  to  labor ;  labor  always  oblaineth  his  purpose." 


MONTAIGNE. 


Montaigne  was  a  contemporary  of  Ascham,  bu( 
about  thirty  years  j^ounger.  In  his  EssaN's  he  may 
be  said  to  have  founded  a  school  of  thinkers  on  the 
subject  of  education,  of  which  Locke  and  Rousseau 
were  afterward  the  great  exponents.  As  far  as  re- 
gards method  of  teaching  languages,  he  simply  dis- 
carded grammatical  teaching,  and  wished  that  all  coulc* 
be  taught  Latin  as  he  had  been,  i.  e,,  by  conversation. 
His  father  had  found  a  German  tutor  for  him,  who 
spoke  Latin,  but  not  French;  and  the  child  thur 
grew  up  to  consider  Latin  his  mother-tongue.  At 
six  years  old  he  knew  no  more  French,  he  tells  us, 
than  Arabic. 

As  I  intend  giving  an  account  of  Montaigne's  prin- 


MONTAIGNE.  29 

ciplcs,  in  the  form  in  which  they  were  presented  by 
Locke  and  Routiseau,  I  need  not  state  them  fully  in 
this  |ilace  ;  but  a  quotation  or  two  will  show  how 
much  his  successors  were  indebted  to  him.  He  com- 
plains of  common  education  as  being  too  much  taken 
up  with  Inngua^'e.  "  Fine  speaking,"  says  he>  '*  is  a 
very  good  and  commendable  quality,  but  not  so  ex- 
cellent or  so  necessary  as  some  would  make  it ;  and 
I  am  scandalized  that  our  whole  life  should  be  spent 
in  nothing  else.  I  would  first  understand  my  own 
language,  and  that  of  my  neigiibbr,  with  whom  most 
of  my  business  and  conversation  lies.  No  doubt 
Greek  and  Latin  are  very  great  ornaments,  and  of 
very  great  use ;  but  we  may  buy  them  too  dear." 
From  our  constant  study  of  words  the  world  is  nothing 
but  babble  ;  and  yet  of  the  truly  educated  we  must 
say  with  Cicero,  "  Ilanc  amplissimam  omnium  artium 
bene  vivendi  di.^ciplinam,  vita  magis  quam  Uteris 
perseculi  sunt."  He  would  take  for  his  models  not 
the  Athenians,  but  the  Spartans.  ''Those  cudgelled 
their  bra:ns  about  words,  these  made  it  their  business 
to  inquire  into  things  ;  there  was  an  eternal  babble 
of  the  tongue,  here  a  continual  exercise  of  the  soul. 
And  therefore  it  is  nothing  strange  if,  when  Antipa- 
ter  demanded  of  them  fifty  children  for  hostages,  they 
made  answer  that  they  would  rather  give  him  twice 
as  many  full  grown  men,  so  much  did  they  value  the 
loss  of  their  country's  education." 

Ordinary  teaching,  again,  gives  only  the  thoughts 
of  others,  without  requiring  the  pupil  to  think  for 
himself.  "We  sutler  ourselves  to  lean  and  re  1 3' so 
very  strongly  upon  the  arm  of  another,  that  by  doing 
so  we  prejudice' our  own  strength  and  vigor. 


30  ASCHAM,    MONTAIGNE,    RATICH,    MILTON. 


I  have  no  taste  for  this  relative,  mendicant,  and  pre- 
carious  understanding ;    for  though   we   should    be- 
come learned  by.  other  men's  reading,  I  am  sure  a 
man  can  never  be  wise  but  by  his  own  wisdom  "     As 
it  is,  "  we  only  toil  and  labor  to  stuff  the  memory  , 
and  in  the  meantime  leave  the  conscience  and  the  un- 
derstanding unfurnished  and  void.     And,  like  birds 
who  fly  abroad  to  forage  for  grain  bring  it  home  in 
their  beak  without  tasting  it  themselves,  to  feed  their 
young,   so  our  pedants  go  picking  knowledge   here 
and  there  out  of  several  authors,  and  hold  it  at  their 
tongue's    end    only    to    spit   it   out    and    distribute    it 
amongst   their  pupils."     The    dancing-master  might 
as  well  attempt  to  teach  us   to    cut   capers   by  our 
listening   to   his   instructions   without    moving    (rom 
our  seats,  as  the  tutor  to  inform  our  understandings 
without  setting  them  \£_work.y*^Yet  't  is  the  custom 
of  schooTm¥sters'to^  be  eternally  thundering  in   their 
pupils'   ears,   as   they  were    pouring  into    a  •funnel, 
whilst  the  pupils'  business  is  only  to  repeat  what  the 
others  have  said  before.     Now  I  would  have  a  tutor 
to  correct  this  error,  and  that  at  the  very  first :   he 
should,   according   to   the    capacity   he    has   to  deal 
with,  put  it  to  the  test,  permitting  his  pupil  himself 
t(    taste  and  relish  things,  and  of  himself  to  choose 
and   discern   them,  sometimes   opening   the  way  to 
him,  and  sometimes  making  him  break  the  ice  him- 
Belf ;  that  is,  I  would  not  have  the  governor  alone  to 
invent  and  speak,  but  that  he  should  also  hear  his 
pupils  speak.     Socrates,  and  since  him  Arcesilaus, 
made  first  their  scholars  speak,  and   then    spoke  to 
them.      Obcst  -plcrumque  iis  qui disctrc  volunl  ajicto- 
ritas  corum  qui  docent.^''     (Cic  "  De  Nat.  Deor.") 


EIFECT   OF  THE    REFOKMATION.  3I 

He  also  insisted  on  llie  importance  of  physical  ed- 
ucation. "  We  have  not  to  train  up  a  soul,  nor  yet  a 
bcdv,  but  a  man  ;  and  we  can  not  divide  him." 


THE  INNOVATORS. 


The  Papal  system  was  connected,  in  the  minds  of 
.he  Reformers,  with  scholastic  sublilties,  monkish 
Latin,  and  ignorance  of  Greek;  the  Reformation 
itself,  with  the  revival  of  classical  learning.  Their 
opponents,  the  Jesuits,  also  fostered  Latin  as  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Church;  and  taught  Greek  as  necessary 
for  controversy.  So,  for  a  time,  the  effect  of  the 
Reformation  was  to  confine  instruction  more  exclu- 
sively to  the  classical  languages.  The  old  Triviura 
(grammar,  logic,  and  rhetoric),  and  Quadrivium 
(arithmetic,  geometry,  music,  and  astronomy),  had 
recognized,  at  least  in  name,  a  course  of  instruction 
in  what  was  then  the  enc3clop£edia  of  knowledge. 
But  now  all  the  great  schoolmasters — Ascham  in 
England,  Sturm  in  Germany,  the  Jesuits  everywhere 
— thought  of  nothing  but  Latin  and  Greek.  Before 
long,  other  voices  besides  Montaigne's  were  heard 
objecting  to  this  bondage  to  foreign  languages,  and 
demanding  more  attention  for  the  mother-tongue  and 
♦or  the  study  o{  things.*     This  demand  has  been  kept 

*  The  reader  will  find  in  the  Appendix,  p.  300,  a  singular  passage 
from  Mulcaster's  Elemeniarie,  which  shows  how  soon  the  advan- 
tage of  studying  the  mother-tongue  and  rejecting  the  dominion  of 
Latin  was  advocated  in  this  country. 


32  ASCIIA.M,    MONTAIGNE,    RATlCll,    MlbTON. 

up  by  a  series  of  reformers,  with  whom  the  chiss  cists, 
alter  withstanding  a  sie^^e  of  nearly  three  centuries 
seem  at  length  inclined  to  come  to  terms. 
I  The  chief  demands  of  these  reformers,  or  Inno- 
vators, as  Raumer  c.ills  them,  have  beeii,  ist,  thai 
the  study  of  things  should  j-)recede,  or  be  united  with, 
the  study  of  words  [y.  Appendix,  p.  302)  ;  2d,  that 
knowledge  should  be  communicated,  where  possible, 
by  appeals  to  the  senses;  3d,  that  all  linguistic 
study  should  begin  with  that  of  the  mother-tongue  ; 
4th,  that  Latin  and  Greek  should  be  taught  to  such 
boys  only  as  would  be  likely  to  complete  a  learned 
education ;  5th,  that  phys  cal  education  should  be 
attended  to  in  all  classes  of  society  for  the  sake  of 
health,  not  simply  with  a  view  to  gentlemanly  ac- 
'^  Lomplishmenls  ;  6th,  that  a  new  method  of  teaching 
should  be  adopted,  Iramed  "  according  "to  nature." 

Their  notions  of  method  have,  of  course,  been  very 
various ;  but  their  systems  mostly  agree  in  these  par- 
ticulars : 

I.  They  proceed  from  the  concrete  to  the  abstract, 
giving  some  knowledge  of  the  thing  itself  before  the 
rules  which  refer  to  it.  2.  They  employ  the  student 
in  analyzing  matter  put  belbre  him,  rather  than 
in  working  synthetically  according  to  precept. 
3.  They  require  the  student  to  teach  himself^  under 
t!ie  superintendence  of  the  master,  rather  than  be 
taught  by  the  master  and  receive  anything  on  the 
master's  authority.  4.  They  rely  on  the  interest  ex- 
cited in  the  pupil  by  the  acquisition  of  knowledge, 
and  renounce  coercion.  5.  Only  that  which  is  un- 
derstood may  be  committed  to  memory  {v.  Appendix, 
p.  307)- 


RATICH.  33 


RATICH. 

During  the  early  years  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
there  was  a  man  traveling  over  Europe,  to  ofTer  to 
Princes  and  Universities  a  wonderful  discovery, 
whereby  old  or  young  might  with  ease,  in  a  very 
short  time,  learn  Hebrew,  Greek,  Latin,  or  any  othei 
tongue.  This,  however,  was  but  a  small  part  of 
what  the  discoverer  promised.  He  would  also  found 
a  school,  in  wliich  all  arts  and  sciences  should  be 
rapidly  learnt  and  advanced ;  he  would  introduce, 
and  peacefully  maintain  throughout  the  continent,  a 
uniform  speech,  a  uniform  government,  and,  more  won- 
derful still,  a  uniform  religion.  From  these  modest 
proposals,  we  should  naturally  infer  tjiat  the  promiser 
was  nothing  but  a  quack  of  more  than  usual  impu- 
dence ;  but  the  position  which  the  name  of  Ralich 
holds  in  the  history  of  education  is  sufficient  proof 
that  this  is  by  no  means  a  complete  account  of  the 
matter. 

Ratich  was  born  at  Wilster,  in  Holstein,  in  1571. 
He  was  educated  in  the  Hamburg  Gymnasium,  studied 
theology  at  Rostock,  and  being  prevented,  by  some 
defect  of  utterance,  from  taking  Holy  Orders,  he 
traveled,  first  to  England,  and  then  to  Amsterdam, 
where  he  elaborated  his  system,'  and  offered  his 
secret  to  Prince  Maurice  of  Orange.  The  Prince 
wished  to  stipulate  that  he  should  confine  himself 
to  teaching  Latin ;  but  Ratich  was  far  too  niuch 
impressed  with  the  importance  of  his  scheme  to 
agree  to  this.  So  he  went  about  from  Court  to 
Court,  from  University  to  University,   to    tind  some 


34  ASCHAM,    MONTAIGNE,    RATICH,    MILTON. 

ruler  or  learned  body  who  would  agree  to  his  terms. 
In  1612  he  memorialized  the  Electoral  Diet,  then 
silting  at  Frankfort ;  and  his  memorial  attracted  so 
much  notice,  that  several  Princes  appointed  learned 
men  to  inquire  into  his  system.  Helvicus,  one  of 
the  most  celebrated  of  these,  published  a  Report,  in 
which  he  declared  strongly  in  favor  of  Ratich. 
"  We  are,"  says  he,  "  in  bondage  to  Latin.  The 
Greeks  and  Saracens  would  never  have  done  so  much 
for  posterity,  if  they  had  spent  their  youth  in  acquir- 
ing a  foreign  tongue.  We  must  study  our  own  lan- 
guage, and  then  sciences.  Ratich  has  discovered  the 
art  of  teaching  according  to  nature.  By  his  method, 
languages  will  be  quickly  learned,  so  that  we  shall 
have  time  for  science  ;  and  science  will  be  learned  even 
better  still,  as  the  natural  system  suits  best  with  science, 
which  is  the  study  of  nature." 

Influenced  by  this  Report,  the  town  of  Augsburg 
in  1614  summoned  Ratich  to  reform  their  schools. 
Here  the  innovator  found,  to  his  cost,  that  he  who 
leaves  the  high  road  has  rough  ground  to  travel  over, 
and  all  kinds  of  obstacles  to  surmount.  Even  his 
best  friends,  among  them  Helvicus,  were  forced  to 
admit  that  they  were  disappointed  with  the  result  of 
the  experiment.  They  did  not  desert  him,  however  . 
and,  in  1619,  Prince  Lewis  of  Anhalt-Kothen,  with 
Prince  Ernest  of  Weimar,  resolved  that  the  great  dis- 
covery should  not  be  lost  to  the  world  for  want  of  a 
lair  trial :  so  Ratich  was  established  at  Kothen,  and 
ail  his  demands  were  complied  with.  A  printing- 
press  was  set  up  for  him,  with  Eastern  as  well  as 
European  types.  A  body  of  teachers  (bound  over  to 
secrecy)   came  to  receive   his  instructions,  and  then 


RATICH    AT    KoTHEN.  35 


carried  them  out,  under  his  directions,  in  a  school  of 
230  boys  and  200  girls,  which  the  Prince  got  to- 
gether for  him.  But  everything  was  soon  in  dis- 
order. Instead  of  introducing  the  uniform  religion, 
he  offended  the  Calvinistic  Kotheners  by  his  uncom- 
promising Lutheranism.  And  his  success  was  by  no 
means  such  as  to  defy  hostile  criticism.  His  enemies 
soon  declared  the'whole  scheme  a  failure,  and  natu- 
rally went  on  to  denounce  its  author  as  an  impostor. 
The  Prince,  exasperated  by  the  utter  break-down 
of  his  expectations,  revenged  himself  on  Ratich  by 
throwing  him  into  prison,  and  after  a  confinement  of 
some  months  dismissed  him  with  a  public  declaration 
that  he  had  promised  what  he  was  unable  to  perform. 

For  more  than  twenty  years  after  this,  Ratich  con- 
tinued to  trumpet  his  system ;  but  iij  the  din  of  the 
Tliirty  Years'  War  he  did  not  receive  much  attention. 
He  died  in  1635. 

Although  Ralich's  pretensions  were  manifestly  ab- 
surd, and  his  binding  over  his  pupils  to  secrecy 
makes  us  suspect  him  of  being  a  charlatan,  he  really 
seems  to  have  been  the  first  to  propound  many  ol' 
those  principles  which  I  have  mentioned  as  the  com- 
mon property  of  the  Innovators.  Although  he  pro- 
fessed to  teach  a  foreign  language  in  six  months,  he 
gave  extreme  prominence  to  the  study  of  the  mother- 
tongue.  The  children  at  Kothen  had  to  go  through 
three  classes  before  they  began  any  other  language. 
Hia  maxims  are  these:  i.  ''Everything  after  the 
order  and  course  of  Nature."  2.  "  One  thing  at  a 
time."  3.  "One  thing  again  and  again  repeated." 
4.  '*  Notliing  shall  be  learnt  by  heart."  In  learning 
by  heart,  he  says,  the  attention  is  fixed  on  the  words, 


]6  ASCHAM,    MONTAlGNli,    RATICII,    MILTON. 

not  on  the  ideas ;  but  if  a  thing  is  thoroughly  grasped 
by  the  understanding,  the  memory  retains  it  without 
further  trouble.  5.  "  Uniformity  in  all  things.* 
Everything  was  to  be  taught  in  the  same  way.  Gram 
mars  of  different  lanjiuajjes  were  to  be  constructed  on 
iJie  same  plan,  and  were  to  differ  only  in  these  parts' 
where  the  idioms  of  the  languages  differed.*  6. 
"  Knowledge  of  the  thing  itself  miist  be  given  before 
*hal  which  refers  to  the  thing."  '■'■Accidcns  rci prius- 
quam  rem  i-psam  qucBrcre  -prorsus  absonutJi  ct  absur- 
iuin  esse  vidctur.  .  .  .  N'e  modus  ret  ante  rcm^ 
Vou  do  not  give  the  properties  of  the  square  or  circle 
before  the  pupil  knows  what  square  and  circle  are, 
says  Ralich ;  why,  then,  should  you  give  rules  about 
patronymics,  e.  g.,  before  the  pupil  knows  anything 
of  patronymics,  or,  indeed,  of  the  simplest  facts  of 
the  language?  The  use  of  rules  is  to  confirm 
previous   knowledge,   and   not  to  give   knowledge.! 

•  This  suggestion  about  grammars  seems  reasonable ;  but  so  little 
has  it  been  attended  to,  that  when  children  learn  in  this  counlry 
both  English  and  Latin  grammar,  the  very  nomenclature  differs,  as 
\1  on  purpose  to  bewilder  them. 

t  The  ordinary  leaching  of  almost  every  subject  offers  illustrations 
ol  the  neglect  of  this  principle.  Take,  e.  g.,  tiie  way  in  which 
:hi\dren  are  usually  taught  to  read.  First,  they  have  to  say  the  al- 
l>liabet — a  very  easy  task,  as  it  seems  to  us;  but  if  we  met  with  a 
strange  word  oi  tiveniy-six  syllables,  and  that  not  a  compound  word, 
but  one  ol  which  every  syllable  was  new  to  us,  wo  miglit  iiave  some 
diflicuUy  in  remembering  it.  And  yet  such  a  word  would  be  to  us 
what  the  alphabet  is  to  a  child.  When  he  can  perform  this  feat,  he 
is  next  required  to  learn  the  symbols  of  sounds,  and  to  learn  the 
names  of  these  symbols.  Some  of  these  names  bring  tlie  child  in 
contact  with  the  sound  itself,  but  most  are  simply  conventional. 
What  notion  does  the  child  get  of  the  aspirate  from  tlie  name  of  the 
letter  k  f  Having  learnt  twenty-si.>w  names  and  twenty-six  symbols, 
«nu  connected  them  together,  the  child  finally  comes  to  the  sounds 


RAT1CH*S   MAXIMS.  37 


7.  •'  Everything  by  experiment  and  analysis."  Pet 
inductioncm  ct  cxfcrimenttim  omnia.  Nothing  was 
to  be  received  on  authority.  Indeed,  Ratich  even 
adopted  the  motto  "  Vetustas  cessit,  ratio  vicit,"  as  if 
the  ojiposite  to  ratio  was  vetustas.  8.  "  Everything 
without  coercion."  The  human  understanding,  he 
says,  is  so  formed  that  it  best  retains  what  it  finds 
pleasure  in  receiving.*  The  rod  should  be  used  to 
correct  ofienses  against  morals  only.  Ratich  laid 
great  stress  on  the  maintenance  of  a  good  feeling 
between  the  teacher  and  the  taught,  and,  lest  this 
should  be  endangered  by  necessary  discipline,  he 
would  hand  over  the  care  of  discipline  to  a  separate 
officer,  called  the  Scholarch. 

When  we  examine  Ratich's  method  of  teaching, 
we  shall  find  that  here,  too,  he  deseuves  to  be  con- 
sidered the  Coryphaeus  of  the  Innovators.   The  teacher 

of  ivhick  the  names  and  symbols  are  the  accidents.  "  But,"  object 
the  teacher,  "  these  sounds  can  not  be  pronounced  alone."  Cer- 
tainly not,  and  they  should  therefore  be  first  brought  to  the  child's 
notice  as  they  really  exist,  and  as  the  child  is  already  familiar  with 
tliem,  i.  e.,  in  connection.  The  child  knows  words.  Teach  him  the 
symbols  of  those  words.  By  analyzing  these,  he  may  learn  the 
symbols  of  the  component  syllables,  and  finally  of  the  component 
sounds,  lie  will  then  have  no  diiliculty  in  learning  the  names  of 
the  letters,  as  he  knows  the  letters  themselves.  This  was  Jacotot's 
method. 

*The  reader  will  find  that  the  unanimity  of  the  writers  on  edu- 
cation in  advocating  this  principle  is  almost  as  great  as  that  of  the 
schoolmasters  in  neglecting  it  The  oldest  and  perhaps  the  most 
striking  testimony  I  have  met  with  on  this  point  is  the  passage  from 
7t.h  book  of  Plato's  Republic,  quoted  by  Ascham :  n'vdlv  fidihifia  hftq 
doilehiq  Tbv  tvlti'Ct/wi"  xi'V  /'nvOditiir  oi  fiiv  )«/>  tov  oufiaTog  ndvoi  fii^ 
r.ovui'ncvot  xtJfiov  ovii-v  to  aij/ia  uTepyd^oy-ai'  ipvx^  (^^  P'taiov  oviirv  ifi/iovov 
ftdHi/fia  .  .  .  fi>j  ro'ivw  (ii^  e5  ifuart,  tuv(  TraZJof  iv  rol^  ftaO^ftaaiv,  iJM 
nail^ovTai  rpi^. 


38  ASCIIAM,    MONTAIGNE,    RATICH,    MILTON. 

of  the  lowest  class  at  Kothen  had  to  talk  »vith  the 
children,  and  to  take  pains  with  their  prom.nciation. 
When  they  knew  their  letters,  the  teacher  vead  the 
hook  of  Genesis  through  to  them,  each  chb.jLer  twice 
over,  requiring  the  children  to  follow  with  eye  and 
hi-ger.  Then  the  teacher  began  the  chi»pl.er  again, 
and  read  about  four  lines  only,  which  tne  children 
read  after  him.  When  the  book  had  bce..i  worked 
over  in  this  way,  the  children  were  required  to  read 
it  through  without  assistance.  Reading  once  secured, 
the  master  proceeded  to  grammar.  He  explained, 
say,  what  a  substantive  was,  and  then  showed  in- 
stances in  Genesis,  and  next  required  the  children  to 
point  out  others.  In  this  way  grammar  was  verified 
throughout  from  Genesis,  and  the  pupils  were  exer- 
cised in  declining  and  conjugating  words  tal  en  from 
the  book. 

Wlien  they  advanced  to  the  study  of  Lctin,  they 
were  given  a  translation  of  a  play  of  Terence,  and 
worked  over  it  several  times  before  they  were  shown 
the  Latin.  The  master  then  translated  the  play  to 
them,  each  half-hour's  work  twice  over.  At  the 
next  reading,  the  master  translated  the  first  haU 
hour,  and  the  boys  translated  the  same  piece  the 
second.  Havinglhus  got  through  the  play,  they  began 
again,  and  only  the  boys  translated.  After  this  there 
was  a  course  of  grammar,  which  was  applied  to  tht» 
Terence,  as  the  grammar  of  the  mother-tongue  had 
been  to  Genesis.  Finally,  the  pupils  were  put  through 
a  course  of  exercises,  in  which  they  had  to  turn  into 
Latin  sentences  imitated  irom  the  Terence,  and  dif- 
fering from  the  original  only  in  the  number  or  person 
used. 


RATICHS    METHOD   AND    ASCHAM  S.  39 

Raiimer  gives  other  particulars,  and  quotes  largely 
(Vom  the  almost  unreadable  account  of  Kromayer,  one 
of  Ralich's  followers,  in  order  that  we  may  have,  as 
he  says,  a  notion  of  the  tediousness  of  the  method. 
No  doubt  any  one  who  has  followed  me  hiiheito, 
will  consider  that  this  point  has  been  brouglit  out  al 
ready  with  sufficient  distinctness. 

When  we  compare  Ratich's  method  with  that  of 
Ascham,  we  find  that  they  have  much  in  common. 
Ratich  began  the  study  of  a  language  with  one  book, 
which  he  worked  over  with  the  pupil  a  great  many 
times.  Ascham  did  the  same.  Each  lecture,  he 
says,  would,  according  to  his  plan,  be  gone  over  a 
dozen  times  at  the  least.  Both  construed  to  the 
pupil,  instead  of  requiring  him  to  make  out  the  sense 
for  himself.  Both  taught  grammar, ,  not  independ- 
ently, but  in  connection  with  the  model  book.  So 
far  as  the  two  methods  differed,  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  pronouncing  Ascham's  the  better.  It  gave  the 
pupil  more  to  do,  and  contained  the  very  important 
element,  writing.  By  this  means  there  was  a  chance 
of  the  interest  of  the  pupil  surviving  the  constant 
repetition  ;  but  Ratich's  pupils  must  have  been  bored 
to  death.  His  plan  of  making  them  familiar  with 
the  translation  first,  was  subsequently  advocated  by 
Comenius,  and  may  have  advantages,  but  in  efiect 
the  pupil  would  be  tired  of  the  play  before  he  began 
to  translate  it.  Then  Ralich's  plan  of  going  through 
and  through  seems  very  inferior  to  that  of  thoroughly 
mastering  one  lesson  before  going  on  to  the  next. 
I  should  say  that  whatever  merit  there  was  in  Ratich's 
plcin,  lay  m  its  insisting  on  complete  knowledge 
of  a  single  book,  and  that  this  knowledge-  would  be 


40  ASCHA.M,    MONTAIGNE,    RATICH,    MILTON. 


much  better  attained  by  Ascham's  practice  of  double 
translation. 


MILTON. 


In  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  there 
was  in  England  a  schoolmaster,  and  author  of  a 
Latin  "Accidence,"  who  was  perhaps  the  most  notable 
man  who  ever  kept  a  school  or  published  a  school- 
book.  This  was  John  Milton.  His  notions  of  edu- 
cation have  been  very  briefly  recorded  by  him  in  his 
Tract  to  Hartlib,  and  have  been  read  by  many  of 
us,  not,  I  fancy,  without  a  feeling  of  disappointment. 
His  proposals,  indeed,  like  everything  connected  with 
him,  are  of  heroic  mold.  The  reader  (especially  if 
he  be  a  schoolmaster)  gasps  for  breath  at  the  mere 
enumeration  of  the  subjects  to  be  learned  and  the 
books  to  be  read.  In  natuial  philosophy  "  they  (the 
scholars)  may  proceed  leisurely  from  the  history  of 
meteors,  minerals,  plants,  and  living  creatures,  as  far 
as  anatomy."  In  law,  "  they  are  to  dive  into  the 
grounds  of  law  and  legal  justice,  delivered  first,  and 
with  best  warrant,  by  Moses,  and,  as  far  as  human 
prudence  can  be  trusted,  in  those  extolled  remains 
of  Grecian  lawgivers,  Lycurgus,  Solon,  Zaleucus, 
Charondas,  and  thence  to  all  the  Roman  edicts  and 
tables  with  their  Justinian,  and  so  down  to  Saxon 
and  common  laws  of  England  and  the  Statutes."  "To 
set  them  right  and  firm  in  the  knowledge  of  virtue 
and  hatred  of  vice,  their  young  and  pliant  affections 
are  to  be  led  through  all  the  moral  works  of  Plato, 


MILIUM    AND     IlJIi    IISNUVATUKS.  4I 


Xcnophon,  Cicero,  Plutarch,  and  lliose  Locian 
remnants."  *'At  some  set  hour  tlicy  are  to  learn 
Hebrew,"  with  the  Clialdee  and  Syrian  dialects,  and 
*'  they  may  have  easily  learned  at  any  odd  houi 
the  Itahan»tongue  !"  *' Tiiis,"  says  Milton  (and  here 
at  least  he  carries  tiie  reader  with  him),  "is  not  a 
bow  for  every  man  to  shoot  in,  that  calls  himscrlf  » 
teacher." 

But  though  Milton  flew  so  hioh,  we  shall  find,  if 
we  examine  his  proposals,  that  he  took  the  same 
direction  as  the  other  Innovators,  (i)  He  denounced, 
as  they  did,  "  the  asinine  feast  of  sow-thistles  and 
brambles,  to  which  we  now  haul  and  drag  our  choicest 
and  hopefullestwits,  as  all  the  food  and  entertainment 
4^[  their  tenderest  and  most  docilable  age."  In  the 
schools  he  complains  that  nothing  but  grammar  was 
taught,  at  the  universities  nothing  .but  logic  and 
metaphysics.  He  would  turn  from  these  verbal  toils 
to  the  study  of  things.  Language  was  not  to  be 
studied  for  itself,  but  merely  as  an  instrument  con- 
veying to  us  things  useful  to  be  known.  Latin  and 
Greek  must  therefore  be  acquired  by  a  method  that 
will  take  little  time.  This  method  he  Vloes  not 
describe  at  length,  but  his  words  seem  to  refer  lo 
some  such  plan  as  that  of  Ascham  or  Ratich. 
"  Whereas,"  he  says,  "  if  after  some  preparatory 
grounds  of  speech  by  their  certain  forms  got  intn 
memory,  they  were  led  to  the  praxis  thereof  in  souie 
chosen  short  book  lessoned  thoroughly  to  them^  the}' 
might  then  forthwith  proceed  lo  learn  the  substance  (^f 
good  things  and  arts  in  due  order,  which  would  bring 
the  whole  language  quickly  into  their  power."  ^2)  The 
young  were  to  be  led  on  "  by  the  infinite  desire  of  a 


42  ASCHAM,    MONTAIGNE,    RATICH,    MILTON. 

happy  nurture ;  for  the  hill  of  knowledge,  laborious 
indeed  at  the  first  ascent,  else  is  so  smooth,  so  green, 
so  full  of  goodly  prospect  and  melodious  sounds  on 
every  side,  that  the  harp  of  Orpheus  was  not  more 
charming.''  ''Arithmetic  and  the  elements  of  geom- 
L'try  might  be  learnt  even  playing,  as  the  old  manner 
was."  (3)  So  averse  was  Milton  to  a  merely  bookish 
training,  that  he  would  procure  for  his  pupils  '*  the 
helpful  experiences  of  hunters,  fowlers,  fishermen, 
shepherds,  gardeners,  and  apothecaries ;  and  in  other 
sciences,  architects,  engineers,  mariners,  and  anato- 
mists." The  boys  were  both  to  hear  and  be  taught 
music — a  commencement  of  aesthetic  culture.  (4)  A 
thorough  physical  ^training  was  to  be  provided  by 
warlike  exercises,  both  on  horse  and  foot,  and  by 
wrestling,  '*  wherein  Englishmen  are  wont  to  ex- 
cel."* 

We  see,  then,  that  the  great  authority  of  Milton 
may  be  claimed  by  the  Innovators,  and  a  protest 
against  a  purely  literary  education  comes  with  tre- 
mendous force  from  the  student  who  sacrificed  his 
sight  to  his  reading,  the  accomplished  scholar  whose 
Latin  works  were  known  throughout  Europe,  and 
the  author  of  "  Paradise  Lost." 

♦  I  have  been  assisted  here  by  Professor  Seclej's  remarks  in  his 
irticle  on  Milton's  political  opii.Ions,  Ma ctnillan's  Magazine,  Feb- 
iiarj,  1868. 


III. 

COMENIUS. 


Jo»-kW  A*»o^  CoMENius,  Uic  son  of  a  miller,  who 
belonged  to  thi?  Moravian  Brethren,  was  born  at  the 
Moravian  village  of  Comna,  in  1592.  Of  his  early 
life  we  know  nothing  but  what  he  himself  tells  us  in 
the  following  passage:  "Losing  both  my  parents 
while  I  was  yet  a  child,  I  began,  through  the  neglect 
oi  my  guardians,  but  at  sixteen  years  of  age,  to  taste 
of  the  Latin  tongue.  Yet,  by  the  goodness  of  God, 
that  taste  bred  such  a  thirst  in  me  that  I  ceased  not 
from  that  time,  by  all  means  and  endeavors,  to  labor 
for  the  repairing  of  my  lost  years ;  and  now  not  only 
■for  myself,  but  for  the  good  of  others  also.  For  I 
could  not  but  pity  others  also  in  this  respect,  es- 
pecially in  my  own  nation,  which  is  too  slothful  and 
careless  in  matter  of  learning.  Thereupon,  I  was 
continually  full  of  thoughts  for  the  finding  out  of 
some  means  whereby  more  might  be  inflamed  with 
the  love  of  learning,  and  whereby  learning  itself 
might  be  made  more  compendious,  both  in  matter  of 
the  charge  and  cost,  and  of  the  labor  belonging 
thereto,  that  so  the  youth  might  be  brought  by  a 
more  easy  method  unto  some  notable  proficiency  in 
learning."*     With    these    thoughts   in    his    head,  he 

•  Preface  to  the  Prodromus. 

(43) 


44 


COMENIUS. 


pursued  }»is  studies  in  several  German  towns,  es- 
pecially at  Herborn  in  Nassau.  Here  he  saw  the 
Report  on  Ralich's  method,  published  in  i6i2  lor  tlie 
Universities  of  Jena  and  Giessen  ;  and  we  find  him 
shortly  afterward  writing  his  first  book,  "Gram- 
maticas  facilioris  Praecepta,"  which  was  published  a( 
PraiT  in  1616.  On  his  return  to  Moravia,  he  was 
appointed  to  the  Brethren's  school  at  Prerau,  but  (to 
use  his  own  words)  "being  shortl}'  after,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-four,  called  to  the  service  of  the  Church, 
because  that  divine  function  challenged  all  my  en- 
deavors, these  scholastic  cares  were  laid  aside."  His 
pastoral  charge  was  at  Fulneck,  the  headquarters  of 
the  Brethren.  As  such,  it  soon  felt  the  effects  of  the 
Baltic  of  Frag,  being  in  the  following  year  (1621) 
taken  and  plundered  by  the  Spaniards.  On  this 
occasion,  Comenius  lost  almost  everything  he  pos- 
sessed. The  year  after  his  wife  died,  and  then  his 
only  child.  In  1624,  all  IVotestant  ministers  were 
banished,  and,  in  1627,  a  new  decree  extended  the 
banishment  to  Protestants  of  every  description.  Co- 
menius bore  up  against  wave,  after  wave  of  calamity 
with  Christian  courage  and  resignation,  and  his  writ- 
ings at  this  period  were  of  great  value  to  his  fellow- 
sufferers. 

For  a  time  he  found  a  hiding-place  in  the  family 
of  a  Bohemian  nobleman,  Baron  Sadowsky,  at 
Sloupna,  in  the  Bohemian  mountains,  and  in  this  re 
lirement  his  attention  was  again  directed  to  the 
science  of  teaching.  The  Biron  had  engaged  Sta- 
(lius,  one  of  the  proscribed,  to  educate  his  three  sons, 
and,  at  Stadius'  request,  Comenius  wrote  "  some?  can- 
ons of  a  belter  niethod,"  for  his  use.      We  find  hun, 


HIS    BANISHMENT.  43 


loo,  endeavoring  to  t^nrich  the  literature  jf  his  mother- 
lojipuc,  makinfj  a  metrical  translation  of  the  Psalms 
of  David,  and  even  writing  imitations  of  Virgil,  Ovid, 
and  Caio's  Di sticks. 

In  1627,  I'.owever,  the  persecution  waxed  so  hot 
that  Comenius,  with  most  of  the  Brethren,  had  to  flee 
their  country,  never  to  return.  On  crossing  the  bol- 
der, Comenius  and  the  exiles  who  accompanied  him 
knelt  down  and  prayed  that  God  would  not  suffer  His 
truth  to  fail  out  of  their  native  land. 

Many  of  the  banished,  and  Comenius  among  them, 
j?ettled  at  the  Polish  town  of  Leszno,  or,  as  the  Ger- 
mans call  it,  Lissa,  near  the  Silesian  frontier.  Here 
there  was  an  old  established  school  of  the  Brethren, 
in  which  Comenius  found  employment.  Once  more 
engaged  in  education,  he  earnestly  set  about  im- 
proving the  traditional  methods.  As  he  himself 
says,*  "Being,  by  God's  permission,  banished  my 
country,  with  divers  others,  and  forced,  for  my  sus- 
tenance, to  apply  myself  to  the  instruction  of  youth, 
I  gave  my  mind  to  the  perusal  of  divers  authors,  and 
lighted  upon  many  which  in  this  age  have  made  a 
beginning  in  reforming  the  method  of  studies,  as 
Ratichius,  Helvicus,  Rhenius,  Ritterus,  Glaumius, 
Caeciiius,  and  who  indeed  should  have  had  the  first 
place,  Joannes  Valentinus  Andrae,  a  man  of  a  nimble 
and  clear  brain  ;  as  also  Campanella  and  the  Lord 
Verulam,  those  famous  restorers  of  philosophy : — 
by  reading  of  whom  I  was  raised  in  good  hope  that 
at  last  those  so  many  various  sparks  would  conspire 
into  a  flame  ;  yet  observing  here  and  there  some  de- 
fects and  gaiis  as  it  were,  I  could  not  contain  myself 

♦  Preface  to  the  Prodromus. 


46  COMENIUS. 

from  attempting  something  that  might  rest  upon  an 
immovable  foundation,  and  which,  if  it  could  be 
once  found  out,  should  not  be  subject  to  any  ruin. 
Therefore,  after  many  workings  and  tossings  of  my 
thoughts,  by  reducing  everything  to  the  immovable 
laws  of  nature,  I  lighted  upon  my  Didactica  Magna ^ 
which  shows  the  art  of  readily  and  solidly  teaching 
all  men  all  things." 

This  work  did  not  immediately  see  the  light,  but 
in  1631,  Comenius  published  a  book  which  made  him 
and  the  little  Polish  town  where  he  lived,  known 
throughout  Europe'  and  beyond  it.  This  was  the 
'Janua  Linguarum  Reseraia,  or  "Gate  of  Tongues 
unlocked."  Writing  about  it  many  years  afterward 
he  says  that  he  never  could  have  imagined  that  that 
little  work,  fitted  only  for  children  (puerile  istudofus- 
cuJuni)^  would  have  been  received  with  applause  by 
all  the  learned  world.  Letters  of  congratulation 
came  to  him  from  every  quarter ;  and  the  work  was 
translated  not  only  into  Greek,  Bohemian,  Polish, 
Swedish,  Belgian,  English,  French,  Spanish,  Italian, 
Hungarian,  but  also  into  Turkish,  Arabic,  Persian, 
and  even  "  Mogolic,  which  is  familiar  to  all  the  East 
Indies."  (Dedication  of  Schola  Ludus  in  Vol.  I.  of 
collected  works.)* 

Incited  by  the  applause  of  the  learned,  Comenius 
now  planned  a  scheme  of  universal  knowledge,  to 
impart  which  a  series  of,  works  would  have   to  be 


•  Bayle,  speaking  of  the  Janua  in  his  article  on  Comenius  (Diet. 
sub.  v.),  says :  "  Qiiand  Comenius  n'  aurait  publie  que  ce  livre  la,  il 
se  serait  immortalise."  He  published  a  more  celebrated  book  than 
this  (viz.,  the  Orbis  Pictus),  and  yet  his  "  immortr.lity  "  seems  al- 
lead  J  of  the  feeblest. 


IN    LONDON.  47 


written,  far  exceeding  what  the  resources  and  in- 
dustry of  one  man,  however  great  a  scholar,  could 
produce.  He  therefore  looked  about  for.  a  patron  to 
supply  money  for  his  support,  and  that  of  his  assist- 
ants, whilst  these  works  were  in  progress.  "The 
vastness  of  the  labors  I  contemplate,"  he  writes  lo  a 
Polish  nobleman,  "  demands  that  I  should  have  a 
wealthy  patron,  whether  we  look  at  their  extent,  or 
at  the  necessity  of  securing  assistants,  or  at  the  ex- 
penses generally." 

At  Leszno  there  seemed  no  prospect  of  his  obtaining 
the  aid  he  required  ;  but  his  fame  now  procured  him 
invitations  from  distant  countries.  First  he  received 
a  call  to  improve  the  schools  of  Sweden.  After  de- 
clining this,  he  was  induced  by  his  English  friends 
to  undertake  a  journey  to  London,  where  Parliament 
had  shown  its  interest  in  the  matter  of,  education,  and 
had  employed  Hartlib,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
Comenius,  to  attempt  some  reforms.  Hartlib  procured 
an  order  summoning  Comenius,  who' gives  the  follow- 
ing account  of  his  journey  : — 

•'When  seriously  proposing  to  abandon  the  thorny 
studies  of  Didactics,  and  pass  on  to  the  pleasing 
studies  of  philosophical  truth,  I  find  myself  again 
among  the  same  thorns.  .  .  .  After  the  Pansophice 
Prodromus  had  been  published  and  dispersed  through 
various  kingdoms  of  Europe,  many  of  the  learned 
approved  of  the  object  and  plan  of  the  work,  but 
despaired  of  its  ever  being  accomplished  by  one  man 
alone,  and  therefore  advised  that  a  college  of  learned 
men  should  be  instituted  to  carry  it  into  effect.  Mr. 
S.  Hartlib,  who  had  forwarded  the  publication  ol 
the    Pansop/iicB    Prodromus    in     England,    labored 


aS  COMENIUS. 


carnerflly  in  this  matter,  and  endeavored,  by  every 
possible  means,  to  bring  togetlier  for  this  purposr.  a 
number  of  men  of  intellectual  activity.  And  at 
length,  having  found  one  or  two,  he  invited  me  also, 
with  many  very  strong  entreaties.  As  my  friends 
consented  to  my  departure,  I  proceeded  to  London, 
and  arrived  there  on  the  day  of  the  autumnal 
equinox,  1641,  and  I  then  learned  that  I  had  been 
called  thither  by  an  order  of  Parliament.  But  in 
consequence  of  the  King's  having  gone  to  Scotland, 
the  Parliament  had  been  dismissed  for  three  months, 
and  consequently  I  had  to  winter  in  London,  my 
friends  in  the  meantime  examining  the  'Apparatus 
Philosophicus,'  small  though  it  was  at  that  time.  .  . 
At  length  Parliament  having  assembled,  and  m}' 
presence  being  known,  I  was  commanded  to  wait 
until  after  some  important  business  having  been 
transacted,  a  Commission  should  be  issued  to  cer- 
tain wise  and  learned  men,  from  amongst  them- 
selves, to  hear  *me,  and  be  informed  of  my  plan. 
As  an  earnest,  moreover,  of  their  intentions,  they 
communicated  to  me  their  purpose  to  assign  to 
us  a  college  with  revenues,  whence  some  men  of 
learning  and  industry,  selected  from  any  nation-, 
iTiight  be  honorably  sustained,  either  for  a  certain 
number  of  years,  or  in  perpetuity.  The  Savoy  in 
London,  and  bej-ond  London,  Winchester,  and  again 
near  the  city,  Chelsea,  were  severally  mentioned, 
and  inventories  of  the  latter,,  and  of  its  revenues, 
were  communicated  to  me.  So  that  nothing  seemed 
more  certain  than  that  the  design  of  the  great 
Verulam  to  open  a  Universal  College  of  all  nations, 
dt'voted  solely  to  the  advancement   of    the    sciences 


dofes  to  swkbeH.  49 


was  now  in  the  way  of  being  carried  into  eflect.  But 
a  rumor  that  Ireland  was  in  a  state  of  commotion, 
and  that  more  than  200,000  of  the  English  there 
had  been  slaughtered  in  one  night,  the  sudden  de- 
parture of  the  King  from  London,  and  he  clear  in- 
dications that  a  most  cruel  war  was  on  the  point  of 
breaking  out,  threw  all  these  plans  into  confusion, 
•and  compelled  me  and  m}'  friends  to  hasten  our  re- 
turn." 

While  Comenius  was  in  England,  where  he  stayed 
till  August,  1642.  he  received  an  invitation  to  France. 
This  invitation,  which  he  did  not  accept,  came  per- 
haps through  his  correspondent  Mersenne,  a  man  of 
great  learning,  who  is  said  to  have  been  highly 
esteemed  and  often  consulted  by  Descartes.  It  is 
characteristic  of  the  state  of  opinion  in  such  matters 
in  those  days,  that  Mersenne  tells  Comenius  of  a  cer- 
tain Le  Maire,  by  whose  method  a  boy  of  six  years 
old,  might,  with  nine  months'  instruction,  acquire  a 
perfect  knowledge  of  three  languages.  Mersenne 
also  had  dreams  of  a  universal  alphabet,  and  even  of 
a  universal  lanjruajre. 

Comenius'  hopes  of  assistance  in  E  igland  being  at 
an  end,  he  thought  of  returning  to  Leszno,  but  a 
letter  now  readied  him  from  a  rich  Dutch  merchant, 
Lewis  de  Geer,  who  oflered  him  a  home  and  means 
for  carrying  out  his  plans.  This  Lewis  de  Geer, 
•'  the  Grand  Almoner  of  Europe,"  as  Comenius  calls 
liim,  displayed  a  princely  munificence  in  the  assistance 
he  gave  the  exiled  Protestants.  At  this  time  he  was 
living  at  Nordcoping  in  Sweden.  Comenius  having 
now  found  such  a  patron  as  he  was  seeking,  set  out 
from  England  and  joined  him  there. 


$0  COMENtUS. 


Soon  after  the  arrival  of  Comenius  in  Sweden,  the 
great  Oxenstiern  sent  for  him  to  Stockholm,  and  with 
John  Skyte,  the  Chancellor  of  Upsal  University,  ex- 
amined him  in  several  interviews  about  his  system. 
*'  From  my  early  youth,"  said  Oxenstitrn,  "  I  observed 
something  forced  and  incoherent  in  the  method  of 
instruction  commonly  used,  but  could  not  discover 
where  the  impediment  lay.  At  length,  being  sent 
by  my  King,  of  glorious  memory,  as  a  legate  to 
Germany,  I  held  conferences  there  on  the  subject 
with  various  learned  men,  and  when  I  was  informed 
that  Ratich  had  attempted  an  amendment  of  the 
method,  I  could  not  rest  till  I  had  had  a  personal 
interview  with  him ;  when,  instead  of  favoring  me 
with  a  conference,  he  presented  me  with  a  large 
quarto  volume.  I  went  through  the  task  imposed 
upon  me,  and  then  perceived  that  he  had  succeeded 
in  discovering  the  diseases  of  the  schools,  but  the 
remedies  he  ijuggested  seemed  very  insufficient.  Your 
remedies  rest  upon  a  surer  foundation."  Comenius 
said  it  was  his  wish  to  get  beyond  the  teaching  of 
boys  to  a  great  philosophical,  or  rather  "  pansophical" 
work.  But  both  Oxenstiern  and  Skyte  urged  him  to 
confine  himself,  for  the  present,  to  a  task  less  am- 
bitious, but  more  practically  useful.  "  My  counsel," 
said  Oxenstiern,  "is  that  you  first  satisfy  the  wants 
of  the  schools  by  rendering  a  knowledge  of  the  Latin 
language  of  easier  acquisition,  and  thereby  preparing 
the  path  of  a  readier  approach  toward  those  more 
sublime  studies."  As  De  Geer  gave  the  same  advice, 
Comenius  felt  himself  constrained  to  follow  it,  so  he 
agreed  to  settle  at  Elbing  in  Prussia,  and  there  write 
a  work  on  teaching,  in  which  the  principles  of  the 


Writes  the  "novissimi  metiiodus."       51 

•' Didaclica  Magna"  should  be  worked  out  with  es- 
pecial reference  to  teaching  languages.  Notwith- 
standing the  remonstrances  of  his  English  friends,  to 
which  Comenius  would  gladly  have  listened,  he  was 
kept  by  Oxenstiern  and  De  Geer  strictly  to  his  agree- 
ment, and  thus,  much  against  his  will,  he  was  held 
fast  for  eight  years  in  what  he  calls  the  '•  miry  en- 
tanglements of  logomachy." 

Elbing,  where,  after  a  journey  to  Leszno  to  fetch 
his  family  (for  he  had  married  again),  Comenius  now 
settled,  is  in  West  Prussia,  36  m  les  southeast  of 
Dantzic.  From  1577  to  1660,  an  English  trading 
company  was  settled  here  with  which  the  family  of 
Hartlib  is  said  in  one  account  to  have  beon  connected. 
This  perhaps  is  one  reason  why  Comenius  chose 
this  town  for  his  residence.  But  Hartlib,  instead  of 
assisting  with  money,  seems  at  this*  time  to  have 
needed  assistance,  for  in  October,  1642,  Comenius 
writes  to  De  Geer  that  he  fears  Fundanius  and  Hart- 
lib are  suffering  from  want,  and  that  he  intends  fo> 
ihem  200/.  promised  by  the  London  booksellers  :  he 
suggests  til  at  De  Geer  shall  give  tliem  30/.  each 
meanwhile. 

Tlie  relation  between  Comenius  and  his  patron 
naturally  proved  a  difficult  one.  The  Dutchnfan 
limught  that  as  he  supported  Comenius,  and  contrib- 
uted something  more  for  the  assistants,  he  might 
expect  of  Comenius  that  he  would  devote  all  his 
lime  to  the  scholastic  treatise  he  had  undertaken. 
Comenius,  however,  was  a  man  of  immense  energy 
and  of  widely  extended  sympathies  and  connections. 
He  was  a  "bishop"  of  the  religious  bod}  to  which  he 
belonged,  and   in  this  capacity  he  engaged  in  con- 


Si  COMENIUS. 


troversy,  and  attended  some  religious  conferences. 
Then,  again,  pupils  were  pressed  upon  him,  and  as 
money  to  pay  fiv:>  writers  whom  he  kept  at  work  was 
always  running  short,  he  did  not  decline  them.  De 
Geer  complained  of  this,  and  supplies  were  not  fur- 
nished with  wonted  regularity.  In  1647  Comenius 
writes  to  Hartlib  that  he  is  almost  overwhelmed  with 
cares,  and  sick  to  death  of  writing  begging-letters.  Yet 
in  this  year  he  found  means  to  publish  a  book  "  On 
the  Causes  of  this  (i.  e.,  the  Thirty  Years')  War,"  in 
which  the  Roman  Catholics  are  attacked  with  great 
bitterness — a  bitterness  for  which  the  position  of  the 
writer  affords  too  good  an  excuse. 

The  year  1648  brought  with  it  the  downfall  of  all 
Comenius'  hopes  of  returning  to  his  native  land. 
The  Peace  of  Westphalia  was  concluded  without  any 
provision  being  made  for  the  restoration  of  th<i  exiles. 
But  though  thus  doomed  to  pass  liie  remaining  years 
of  his  life  in  banishment,  Comenius,  in  this  3'ear, 
seemed  to  have  found  an  escape  from  all  his  pecuniary 
difficulties.  The  senior  bishop,  the  head  of  the 
Moravian  Brethren,  died,  and  Comenius  was  chosen 
to  succeed  him.  In  consequence  of  this,  Comenius 
returned  to  Leszno,  where  due  provision  was  made 
for  him  b}-  the  Brethren.  Before  helell  Elbing,  how- 
ever, the  fruit  of  his  residence  there,  the  "  Methodus 
Linguarum  Novissima,"  had  been  submiit  il  to  a  com 
mission  of  learned  Swedes,  and  approved  of  by  them 
The  MS.  went  with  him  to  Leszno,  where  il  was 
published. 

As  head  of  the  Moravian  Church,  there  now  de- 
volved upon  Comenius  the  care  of  all  the  exiles,  and 
his  wide-spread  reputation   enabled  him  to  gel  situa- 


WRITES    THE    '    ORBIS    PICTUS."  S3 

lions  for  manv  of  ihem  in  all  Protestant  countries. 
Indeed,  he  was  now  so  much  connecti'd  will,  the 
science  ot"  education,  that  even  his  post  at  Lesino 
did  not  prevent  his  receiving  and  accepting  a  call  to 
reform  the  schools  in  Transylvania.  A  model  school 
was  formed  at  Saros-Patak,  in  which  Comenius  la- 
bored from  1650  till  1654.  At  this  time  he  wrote  his 
most  celebrated  book,  which  is  indeed  only  an  abridg- 
ment of  his  "Janua  "  with  the  important  addition  of  pic- 
tures, and  sent  it  to  Niirnberg,  where  it  appeared 
three  years  later  (1657).  This  was  the  famous  "  Or- 
bis  Pictus." 

Full  of  trouble  as  Comenius'  life  had  hitherto 
been,  its  greatest  calamity  was  still  before  him.  After 
he  was  again  settleil  at  Leszno,  Poland  was  invaded 
by  the  Swedes,  on  which  occasion  the  sympathies  of 
the  Brethren  were  with  their  fellow-Protestants,  and 
Comeniu"--  was  imprudent  enough  to  write  a  con- 
graluhitory  address  to  the  Swedish  King.  A  peace 
followed,  by  the  terms  of  which,  several  towns,  and 
Leszno  among  them,  were  made  over  to  Sweden,  but 
when  the  King  withdrew,  the  Poles  took  up  arms 
again,  and  Leszno,  the  headquarters  of  the  Protes- 
tants, the  town  in  which  the  chief  of  the  Moravian 
Brethren  had  writfen  his  address  welcoming  the 
enemy,  was  taken  and  plundered. 

Comenius  and  his  family  escaped,  but  his  house 
was  marked  for  special  violence,  and  nothing  was 
pceserved.  His  sole  remaining  possessions  were  tin; 
clothes  in  which  he  and  his  family  traveled.  All 
his  books  and  manuscripts  were  burnt,  among  them 
his  valued  workon  Pansophia,  and  a  Latin-Bohemian 
and      Bohemian-Latin     Dictionary,     giving     words. 


54  COMENIUS. 

phrases,  idioms,  adages,  and  aphorisms — a  book  on 
which  he  had  been  laboring  for  forty  years.  "  Tliis 
loss,"  he  writes,  *'  I  shall  cease  to  lament  only  when 
I  cease  to  breathe."  After  wandering  for  some  lime 
about  Germany,  and  being  prostrated  by  fever  at  Ham- 
burg, he  at  length  came  to  Amsterdam,  where  Law- 
rence De  Geer,  the  son  of  his  deceased  patron,  gave 
him  an  asylum.  Here  were  spent  the  remaining  years 
of  his  life  in  ease  and  dignity.  Compassion  for  his 
misfortunes  was  united  with  veneration  for  his  learn- 
ing and  piety.  He  earned  a  sufficient  income  by 
giving  instruction  in  the  families  of  the  wealthy,  and 
by  the  liberality  of  De  Geer  he  was  enabled  to  publish 
a  fine  folio  edition  of  all  his  writings  on  Education 
(1657).  His  political  works,  however,  were  to  the 
last  a  source  of  trouble  to  him.  His  hostility  to  the 
Pope  and  the  House  of  Hapsburg  made  him  the  dupe 
of  certain  "prophets"  who^e  soothsay  ings  he  published 
as  "  Lux  in  Tenebris."  One  of  these  prophets,  who 
had  announced  that  the  Turk  was  to  take  Vienna, 
was  executed  at  Pressburg,  and  the  "  Lux  in  Tene- 
bris "  at  the  same  time  burnt  by  the  hangman.  Before 
the  news  of  this  disgrace  reached  Amsterdam,  Co- 
menius  was  no  more.  He  died  i.i  the  year  i67i,at 
the  advanced  age  of  eighty,  and  with  him  terminated 
the  office  of  Chief  Bishop  among  the  Moravian 
Brethren. 

Before  Comenius,  no  one  had  brought  the  mind 
of  a  philosopher  to  bear  practically  on  the  subject  of 
education.  Montaigne,  Bacon,  Milton,  had  advanced 
principles,  leaving  others  to  see  to  their  application. 
A  few  able  schoolmasters,  as  Ascham  and  Ratich, 
had     investigated     new    methods,    but     had     made 


EDUCATION  ACCORDING  TO  NATURE.      55 

success  in  teaching  the  lest  to  which  ihey  appealed, 
rather  than  any  abstract  principle.  Comenius  \va? 
at  once  a  philosopher  who  had  learnt  of  Bacon,  and 
a  schoolmaster  who  had  earned  his  livelihood  by 
teaching  the  rudiments.  Dissatisfied  with  the  stale 
of  education  as  he  found  it,  he  sought  for  a  heller 
system  by  an  examination  of  the  laws  of  Nature 
Whatever  is  thus  established,  we  must  allow  to  be  on 
an  immovable  foundation,  and,  as  Comenius  himself 
says,  '*  not  liable  to  any  ruin  ;*'  but  looking  back  on 
the  fruit  of  Comenius*  labors,  we  find  that  much 
which  he  thought  thus  based,  was  not  so  in  reality — 
that  he  often  believed  he  was  appealing  to  Nature, 
when  in  truth  he  was  merely  using  fanciful  illuslralions 
from  her.  But  whatever  mistakes  he  and  others  may 
have  made  in  consulting  the  oracle,  it  is  no  proof  of 
wisdom  to  attempt,  as  "  practical  men"  often  do,  to 
use  these  mistakes  in  disparagement  of  the  oracle 
itself;  and  because  some  have  gone  wrong  when 
they  thought  they  were  following  Nature,  to  treat 
every  appeal  to  her  with  contempt.  It  will  hkrdly  be 
disputed,  when  broadly  stated,  that  there  are  laws  of 
Nature  which  must  be  obeyed  in  dealing  with  the  mind, 
as  with  the  body.  No  doubt  these  laws  are  not  so 
easily  established  in  the  first  case  as  in  the  second, 
but  whoever  in  any  way  assists  or  even  tries  to  assist 
in  the  discovery,  deserves  our  gratitude,  and  greally 
are  we  indebted  to  him  who  first  boldly  set  about  the 
task,  and  devoted  to  it  years  of  patient  labor. 

Every  one  who  has  studied  Comenius'  voluminous 
writings  is  agreed  that  the  "Didactica  Magna,"  though 
one  of  his  earlier  works,  contains,  in  the  best  form, 
the  principles  he  afterward  endeavored  to  work  out 


56  COMENIUS. 


in  the  "Janua,"  "  Orbis  Pictus,"  and  "  Novissima 
Methodus."  A  short  account  of  this  book  will  g'VP 
some  notion  of  what  Comenius  did  for  education. 

We  live,  says  Comenius,  a  threefold  life — a  vege- 
tative, an  animal,  and  an  intellectual  or  spiritual. 
0(  these,  the  first  is  perfect  in  the  womb,  the  last 
in  heaven.  He  is  happy  who  comes  with  healthy  bod}' 
into  the  world,  much  more  he  wh.o  goes  with  healthy 
spirit  out  of  it.  According  to  the  heavenly  idea, 
man  should  (i)  know  all  things;  (2)  should  be  mas- 
ter of  all  things,  and  of  himself;  (3)  should  refer 
everything  to  God.  So  that  within  us  Nature  has 
implanted  the  seeds  of  (i)  learning,  (2)  virtue,  and 
(3)  P't'ty.  To  bring  these  to  maturity  is  the  object  of 
education.  All  men  require  education,  and  God  has 
made  children  unfit  for  other  employments  that  they 
may  have  leisure  to  learn. 

But  schools  have  failed,  and  instead  of  keeping  to 
the  true  object  of  education,  and  teaching  the  foun- 
dations, relations,  and  intentions  of  all  the  most  im- 
portant things,  they  have  neglected  even  the  mother- 
tongue,  and  confined  the  teaching  to  Latin,  and  yet 
tiiat  has  been  so  badly  taught,  and  so  much  time  has 
been  wasted  over  grammar  rules  and  dictionaries, 
that  from  ten  to  twenty  years  are  spent  in  acquiring 
as  much  knowledge  of  Latin  as  is  speedily  acquired 
of  any  modern  tongue. 

The  cause  of  this  want  of  success  is  that  the  system 
does  not  follow  Nature.  Everything  natural  goes 
smoothly  and  easily.  There  must,  therefore,  be  no 
pressure.  Learning  should  come  to  children  as 
swimming  to  fish,  flying  to  birds,  running  to  animals. 
As  Aristotle   says,  the   desire   of  knowledge  is  im- 


PRINCIPLES    FROM    THE    STUDY    OF    NATURE.       57 

planted  in  man  :  and  the  mind  grows  as  the  body 
does — by  taking  proper  nourishment,  not  by  being 
stretched  on  the  rack. 

If  we  would  ascertain  how  teaching  and  learning 
are  to  have  good  results,  we  must  look  to  the  known 
processes  of  Nature  and  Art.  A  man  sows  seed,  and 
it  comes  up  he  knows  not  iiow,  but  in  sowing  it  he 
must  attend  to  the  requirements  of  Nature.  Let  us 
then  look  to  Nature  to  find  out  how  instruction  is  to 
be  sown  in  young  minds.  We  find  that  Nature  waits 
for  the  fit  time.  Then,  too,  she  has  prepared  the 
material  before-  she  gives  it  form.  In  our  teaching 
we  constantly  run  counter  to  these  principles  of  hers. 
We  give  instruction  before  the  young  minds  are 
ready  to  receive  it.  We  give  the  form  before  the 
material.  Words  are  taught  before  the  things  to  which, 
they  refer.  When  a  foreign  tongue  ig  to  be  taught, 
we  commonly  give  the  form,  i.  e.,  the  grammatical 
rules,  before  we  give  the  material,  i.  e.,  the  language, 
to  which  the  rules  apply.  We  should  begin  with 
an  author,  or  properly  prepared  translation-book, 
and  abstract  rules  should  never  come  before  the  ex- 
amples. 

Again,  Nature  begins  each  of  her  works  with  its 
inmost  part.  Moreover,  the  crude  form  comes  first, 
then  the  elaboration  of  the  parts.  The  architect, 
acting  on  this  principle,  first  makes  a  rough  plan  or 
model,  and  then  by  degrees  designs  the  details;  last 
of  all  he  attends  to  the  ornamentation.  In  teaching, 
then,  let  the  inmost  part,  i.  e.,  the  understanding  of 
the  subject,  come  first,  then  let  the  thing  understood 
be  used  to  exercise  tiie  memory,  the  speech,  and  the 
hands ;  and  let  every  language,  science,  and  art  be 


58  COMENIUS. 


taught  first  in  its  rudimentary  outline  ;  then  more  com- 
pletely with  examples  and  rules ;  finally,  with  excep- 
tions and  anomalies.  Instead  of  this,  some  teachers 
are  foolish  enough  lo  require  beginners  to  get  up  all 
liie  anomalies  in  Latin  Grammar,  and  the  dialects  in 
fiieek. 

Again,  as  Nature  does  nothing  j^cr  salluni,  noi 
halts  when  she  has  begun,  the  whole  course  of  studies 
should  be  arranged  in  strict  order,  so  that  the  earlier 
studies  prepare  the  way  for  the  latter.  Every  year, 
every  month,  every  day  and  hour  even,  should  have 
its  task  marked  out  beforehand,  and  the  plan  should 
be  rigidly  carried  out.  Much  loss  is  occasioned  by 
absence  of  boys  from  school,  and  by  changes  in  the 
instruction.  Iron  that  might  be  wrought  with  one 
heating  should  not  be  allowed  to  get  cold,  and  be 
heated  over  and  over  again. 

Nature  protects  her  work  from  injurious  influences, 
so  boys  should  be  kept  from  injurious  companionships 
and  books. 

In  a  chapter  devoted  to  the  principles  of  easy 
teaching,  Comenius  lays  down,  among  rules  similar 
to  the  foregoing,  that  children  will  learn  if  they  are 
taught  only  what  they  have  a  desire  to  learn,  with 
due  regard  to  their  age  and  the  method  of  instruction, 
and  especially  when  everything  is  first  taught  by 
means  of  the  senses.  On  this  point  Comenius  laid 
g:  eat  stress,  and  he  was,  I  believe,  the  first  who  did  so. 
Education  should  proceed,  he  said,  in  the  following 
order  :  first,  educate  the  senses,  then  the  memory,  then 
the  intellect;  last  of  all,  the  critical  faculty.  This  is 
the  order  of  Nature.  The  child  first  perceives  through 
the  senses.     Nihil  est  in  intcllcctu  quod  non  priu*  in 


ORDER  OF  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT.       59 


sensu.  These  perceptions  are  stored  in  the  memory, 
a".d  called  up  by  the  imagination.  By  comparing  one 
with  another,  the  understanding  forms  general  ideas, 
and  at  length  the  judgment  decides  between  the  false 
and  the  true.  By  keeping  to  this  order,  Comenius 
believed  it  would  be  possible  to  make  learning  en- 
tirely pleasant  to  the  pupils,  however  young.  Here 
Comenius  agreed  with  the  Jesuits,  and  in  part  he 
would  use  the  same  means  to  make  the  road  to  learn- 
ing agreeable.  Like  them,  he  would  have  short 
school-hours,  and  would  make  great  use  of  praise 
and  blame,  but  he  did  not  depend,  as  they  did,  almost 
exclusively  on  emulation.  He  would  have  the  desire 
of  learning  fostered  in  every  possible  way — by  parents, 
by  teachers,  by  school  buildings  and  apparatus,  by 
the  subjects  themselves,  by  the  method  of  teach- 
ing them,  and  lastly,  by  the  public  authorities.  (l) 
The  parents  must  praise  learning  and  learned  men, 
must  show  children  beautiful  books,  etc.,  must  treat 
the  teachers  with  great  respect.  (2)  The  teacher 
must  be  kind  and  fatherly,  he  must  distribute  praise 
and  reward,  and  must  always,  where  il  is  possible,  give 
the  children  something  to  look  at.  (3)  The  school 
buildings  must  be  light,  airy,  and  cheerful,  and  well 
furnished  with  apparatus,  as  pictures,  maps,  models, 
collections  of  specimens.  (4)  The  subjects  taught 
must  not  be  too  hard  for  the  learner's  comprehension, 
and  the  more  entertaining  parts  of  them  must  be 
esl^ecially  dwelt  upon.  (5)  The  method  must  be 
natural,  and  everything  that  is  not  essential  to  the 
subject  or  is  beyond  the  pupil  must  be  omitted.  Fables 
and    allegories  should    be  introduced,   and  enigmas 


6o  COMENIUS. 


given    for  the  pupils  to  guess.     (6)  The  authorities 
must  appoint  pubhc  examinations  and  reward  merit. 

Nature  helps  herself  in  various  ways,  so  the  pupils 
should  have  ever}'  assistance  given  them.  It  should 
especially  be  made  clear  what  the  pupils  are  to  learn, 
and  how  Ihey  should  learn  it. 

The  pupils  should  be  punish.ed  for  offenses  against 
morals  only.  If  they  do  not  learn,  the  fault  is  with 
the  teacher. 

One  of  Comenius'  most  distinctive  principles  was, 
that  the  knowledge  of  things  should  be  communicated 
together  with  the  knowledge  ofiuords.  This,  together 
with  his  desire  of  submitting  everything  to  the  pupil's 
senses,  would  have  introduced  a  great  change  into 
the  course  of  instruction,  which  was  then,  as  it  has  for 
the  most  part  continued,  purely  literar}'.  We  should 
learn,  says  Comenius,  as  much  as  possible,  not  from 
books,  but  from  the  great  book  of  Nature,  from  heaven 
and  earth,  from  oaks  and  beeches. 

When  languages  are  to  be  learnt,  he  would  have 
them  taught  separately.  Till  the  pupil  is  from  eight 
to  ten  years  old,  he  should  be  instructed  only  in  the 
mother-tongue,  ^nd  about  things.  Then  other  lan- 
guages can  be  acquired  in  about  a  year  each  ;  Latin 
(which  is  to  be  studied  more  thoroughly)  in  about  two 
yearn.  Every  language  must  be  learnt  by  use  rather 
than  b}'  rules;  i.  e.,  it  must  be  learnt  by  hearing, 
reading,  and  re-reading,  transcribing,  attempting 
imitations  in  writing,  and  verbally,  and  by  using  the 
language  in  conversation.  Rules  assist  and  confirm 
practice,  but  they  must  come  after,  not  before  it.  The 
first  exercises  in  a  language  should  take  for  their  sub- 
ject something  of  which  the  sense  is  already  known. 


COURSE   OF   IKSTRUCTION.  6l 


SO  thai  the  mind  may  be  fixed  on  the  words  and  their 
connections.*  The  Catechism  and  Bible  History  may 
be  used  for  this  purpose. 

Considering  the  chissical  authors  not  suited  to  boys' 
understanding,  and  not  fit  for  the  education  of  Chris- 
tians, Comenius  proposed  writing  a  set  of  Latin  man- 
uals for  the  different  stages  between  childhood  and 
manhood:  these  were  to  be  called,  *' Vestibulum," 
♦♦Janua,"  "Palatium,"  "Thesaurus."  The  "Vesli- 
bulum"  and  "Janua"  were  really  carried  out. 

In  Comenius'  scheme  there  were  to  be  four  kinds 
of  schools  for  a  perfect  educational  course  :  ist,  the 
mother's  breast  for  infancy;  2d,  the  public  vernac- 
ular school  for  children,  to  which  all  should  be  sent 
from  six  years  old  till  twelve ;  3d,  the  Latin  school 
or  Gymnasium  ;  4th,  residence  at  a  University  and 
traveling,  to  complete  the  course. 

As  the  Ludus  literarius  scu  schola  vernacula  was  a 
very  distinctive  feature  in  Comenius*  plan,  it  may  be 
worth  while  to  give  his  programme  of  studies.  In  this 
school  the  children  should  learn — ist,  to  read  and 
write  the  mother-tongue  wclU  both  with  writing  and 
printing  letters ;  2d,  to  compose  grammatically;  3d, 
to  cipher ;  4th,  to  measure  and  weigh  ;  5th,  to  sing,  at 
first  popular  airs,  then  from  music ;  6th,  to  say  by 
heart  sacred  psalms  and  hymns;  7th,  Catechism, 
Bible  History,  and  texts;  8lh,  moral  rules,  with  ex- 
amples; 9th,  economy  and  politics,  as  far  as  they 
could  be  understood;  lOlh,  general  history  of  the 
world;  nth,  figure  of  the  earth  and  motion  of  stars, 

*  Comenius  here  follows  Ratich,  who,  as  I  have  mentioned  above 
(p.  38),  required  beginners  to  study  the  translation  before  the  oriff- 
inal. 


62  COMENIUS. 


etc.,  physics  and  geography,  especiall}'  of  native  land  ; 
I2th,  general  knowledge  of  arts  and  handicrafts. 

Each  school  was  to  be  divided  into  six  classes,  cor- 
responding to  the  six  years  the  pupil  should  spend  in 
it.  The  hours  of  work  were  to  be,  in  school,  two 
hours  in  the  morning  and  two  in  the  afternoon,  with 
nearly  the  same  amount  of  private  study.  In  the 
morning  the  mind  and  memory  were  to  be  exercised, 
in  the  afternoon  the  hands  and  voice.  Each  class  was 
to  have  its  proper  lesson-book  written  expressly  for  it, 
so  as  to  contain  ever3thing  that  class  had  to  learn. 
When  a  lesson  was  to  be  got  by  heart  from  the  book, 
the  teacher  was  first  to  read  it  to  the  class,  explain  it, 
and  re-read  it ;  the  boys  then  to  read  it  aloud  b}-  turns 
till  one  of  them  offered  to  repeat  it  without  book  ;  the 
others  were  to  do  the  same  as  soon  as  they  were  able, 
till  all  had  repeated  it.  This  lesson  was  then  to  be 
worked  over  again  as  a  writing  lesson,  etc.  In  the 
higher  forms  of  the  vernacular  school  a  modern  lan- 
guage was  to  be  taught  and  duly  practiced. 

From  this  specimen  of  the  "Didactica  Magna"  the 
reader  will  see  the  kind  of  reforms  at  which  Comenius 
aimed.  Before  his  time  the  Jesuits  alone  had  had  a 
complete  educational  course  planned  out,  and  had 
pursued  a  uniform  method  in  carrying  this  plan 
through.  They,  too,  already  were  distinguished  for 
their  endeavors  to  make  learning  pleasant  to  their 
pupils,  to  lead,  not  drive  them.  But  Comenius,  ad- 
vancing so  far  with  the  Jesuits,  entirely  differed  from 
them  as  to  the  subjects  to  be  taught.  The  Jesuits 
was  as  purely  a  literary  training  as  that  in  our  public 
schools.  Comenius  was  among  the  first  who  laid 
stress  on  the  teaching  about  ikhigs,  and  called  in  the 


THE    "JANUA    LINGUARUM."  63 

senses  to  do  their  part  in  the  work  of  early  education. 
Thus  ho  was  the  forerunner  of  Pcstalozzi,  and  of  the 
champions  of  science  as  Tyndall  and  H.  Spencer 
\monjr  ourselves. 

It  was  not  his  principles,  however,  thai  first  at- 
tracted the  notice  of  Comenius'  contemporaries,  lut 
his  book,  "  Janua  Linguarum  Reserala,"  in  which, 
with  very  imperfect  success,  he  endeavored  to  cart} 
out  those  principles. 

For  the  idea  of  the  work  Comenius  was  beholden 
to  a  Jesuit,  as  he  candidl}"^  confesses.  It  seems  that 
one  Batly,  a  Jesuit  of  Irish  birth,  engaged  in  the 
Jesuit  college  of  Salamanca,  had  endeavored  to  con- 
struct a  "  Noah's  Ark  for  words ;"  i.  e.,  a  work  treat- 
ing shortly  of  all  kinds  of  subjects,  in  such  a  way  as 
to  introduce  in  a  natural  connection  every  word  in  the 
Latin  language.*  "  The  idea,"  says  Comenius,  "  was 
better  than  the  execution.  Nevertheless,  inasmuch 
as  they  (the  Jesuits)  were  the  prime  inventors,  we 
thankfully  acknowledge  it,  nor  will  we  upbraid  them 
with  those  errors  they  have  committed. "f  The  plan 
commended  itself  to  Comenius  on  various  grounds. 
First,  he  had  a  notion  of  giving  an  outline  of  all 
knowledge  before  anything  was  taught  in  detail. 
Next,  he  could  by  such  a  book  connect  the  teaching 
about  simple  things  with  instruction  in  the  Latin 
words  which  applied  to  them.  And  thirdly,  he  hoped 
by  this  means  to  give  such  a  complete  Latin  vocabu* 
lary  as  to  render  the  use  of  Latin  easy  for  all  require« 
ments  of  modern  society.     He  accordingly  wrote  a 

•This  book  attracted  some  notice  in  England.     An  edition,  with 
English  instead  of  Spanish,  was  published  in  London  about  1515. 
tPreface  to  Anchoran's  trans,  of  Janua. 


64  COMENIUS. 

shjrt  account  of  tilings  in  general,  which  he  put  in 
the  form  of  a  dialogue,  and  this  he  published  in  Latin 
and  German  at  Leszno  about  153 1.  The  success  of 
this  work,  as  we  have  already  seen,  was  jjrodigious. 
No  doubt  the  spirit  which  animated  Bacon  was  largely 
dilTiised  among  educated  men  in  all  countres,  and 
they  hailed  the  appearance  of  a  book  which  called  the 
}outh  from  the  study  of  old  philosophical  ideas  to  ob- 
serve the  facts  around  them. 

The  countrymen  of  Bacon  were  not  backward  in 
adopting  the  new  work,  as  the  following,  from 
the  title-page  of  a  volume  in  the  Brit  sh  Museum, 
will  show  :  '*  The  Gate  of  Tongues  Unlocked  and 
Opened ;  or  else,  a  Seminary  or  Seed-plot  of  all 
Tongues  and  Sciences.  That  is,  a  short  way  of 
teaching  and  thoroughly  learning,  within  a  year  and 
a  half  at  the  furthest,  the  Latin,  English,  French, 
and  any  other  tongue,  with  the  ground  and  foundation 
of  arts  and  sciences,  comprised  under  a  hundred 
titles  and  1058  periods.  In  Latin  first,  and  now,  as 
a  token  of  thankfulness,  brought  to  light  in  Latin, 
English,  and  French,  in  the  behalf  of  the  most  illus- 
trious Prince  Charles,  and  of  British,  French,  and 
Irish  youth.  The  4th  edition,  much  enlarged,  by  the 
labor  and  industry  of  John  Anchoran,  Licentiate  in 
Divinity,  London.  Printed  by  Edward  Griffin  for 
Michael  Sparke,  dwelling  at  the  Blew  Bible  in  Green 
Arbor,  1639." 

In  the  preface  to  this  volume  we  have  the  complaint 
which  has  reproduced  itself  in  various  forms  up  to 
the  present  time,  that  the  "youth  was  delayed  with 
grammar  precepts  infinitely  tedious,  perplexed,  ob- 
scure, and  (for  the  most  part)  unprofitable,  and  that 


TIIK    "JANUA    LINGUARUM."  65 

for  many  years."  From  this  barren  region  the  pupil 
was  to  escape  to  become  acquainted  with  things. 
"  Come  on,"  says  the  teacher  in  the  opening  dialogue  ; 
"  let  us  go  forth  into  the  open  air.  Tiiere  you  shall 
view  whatsoever  God  produced  from  the  beginning, 
and  doth  yet  affect  by  nature.  Afterward  we  will 
go  into  towns,  shops,  schools,  where  you  shall  see  how 
men  do  both  apply  those  Divine  works  to  their  uses, 
and  also  instruct  themselves  in  arts,  manners,  tongues. 
Then  we  will  enter  into  houses,  courts,  and  palaces 
of  princes,  to  see  in  what  manner  communities  of  men 
are  governed.  At  last  we  will  visit  temples,  where 
you  sJiall  observe  how  diversely  mortals  seek  to  wor- 
ship the.r  Creator  and  to  be  spiritually  united  unto  Him, 
and  how  He  by  His  Almightincss  disposeth  all  things." 
(This  is  from  the  1656  edition,  by  "W.  D.") 

The  book  is  still  amusing,  but  only  from  the  quaint 
manner  in  which  the  mode  of  life  two  hundred  years 
ago  is  described.  In  Appendix  (p.  309)  the  reader 
will  find  a  specimen. 

But  though  parts  of  the  book  may  on  first  reading 
have  gratified  the  youth  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
a  great  deal  of  it  gave  scanty  information  about  dif- 
ficult subjects,  such  as  physiology,  geometry,  logic, 
rhetoric,  and  that,  too,  in  the  driest  and  dullest  way. 
Moreover,  Comenius  boasts  that  no  important  v/ord 
occurs  twice;  so  that  the  book,  to  attain  the  end  i>f 
giving  a  perfect  stock  of  Latin  words,  would  have  i«i 
be  read  and  re-read  till  it  was  almost  known  b}'  heart  ; 
and  however  amusing  boys  might  find  an  account  of 
tiieir  toys  written  in  Latin  the  first  time  of  reading, 
the  interest  would    soiuewliat  wear  auay  by  the  fifth 

or  sixth  time.     We  can  not  then  leel  much  surprised 
6 


66  COMENIUS. 


on  reading  this  "  general  verdict,"  written  some  thirty 
years  later,  touching  those  earlier  works  of  Comenius  : 
*'  They  are  of  singular  use,  and  very  advantageous 
to  those  of  more  discretion  (especially  to  such  as  have 
already  got  a  smattering  in  Latin),  to  help  their 
memories  to  retain  what  they  have  scatteringly  gotten 
here  and  there,  and  to  furnish  them  with  many  words 
which  perhaps  they  had  not  formerly  read  or  so  well 
observed ;  but  to  young  ciiildren,  as  those  that  are 
ignorant  altogether  of  most  things  and  words,  they 
prove  rather  a  mere  toil  and  burden  than  a  delight 
and  furtherance."* 

The  "  Janua  "  would,  therefore, have  had  but  a  ghort- 
lived  popularity  with  teachers,  and  a  still  shorter  with 
learners,  if  Comenius  had  not  carried  out  his  principle 
of  appealing  to  the  senses,  and  called  in  the  artist. 
The  result  was  the  *'Orbis  Pictus,"  a  book  which  proved 
d  favorite  with  3'oung  and  old,  and  maintained  its 
ground  in  many  a  school  for  more  than  a  century. 
The  "Orbis"  was,  in  substance,  the  same  as  the 
"Janua,"  though  abbreviated,  but  it  had  this  distinct- 
ive feature,  that  each  subject  was  illustrated  by  a 
small  engraving,  in  which  everything  named  in  the 
letter-press  below  was  marked  with  a  number,  and  its 
name  was  found  connected  with  the  same  number  in 
ihe  text.  I  am  sorry  I  can  not  give  a  specimen  of 
this  celebrated  book  with  its  quaint  pictures.  The 
artist,  of  course,  was  wanting  in  the  technical  skill 
which  is  now  commonly  displayed  even  in  very  cheap 
publications,  but  this  renders  his  delineations  none  the 
less  entertaining.  As  a  picture  of  the  life  and  man- 
ners of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  work  has  great 

•Hoole's  preface  to  his  trans,  of  Orbis  Pictus. 


THE    "  ORBIS    PICTUS."  &J 


iiislorical  interest,  which  will,  I  hope,  secure  for  it 
another  English  edition  ;  especially  as  the  last  (that 
of  1777,  reprinted  in  America  in  1812),  which  is  now 
occasionally  to  be  met  with,  is  far  inferior  to  those  of 
an  earlier  date. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  tract  to  Hartlib,  Milton 
would  seem  to  deny  that  he  had  learned  anything 
from  Comenius.  Whether  this  is  his  meaning  or  not, 
he  gives  expression  in  the  tract  to  the  principle  of 
which  Comenius  was  the  great  exponent.  "Because 
one's  understanding  can  not,  in  this  body,  found  itself 
but  on  sensible  things,  nor  arrive  so  clearly  to  the 
knowledge  of  God  and  things  invisible  as  by  orderly 
conning  over  the  visible  and  inferior  creature,  the 
same  method  is  necessarily  to  be  followed  in  all  dis- 
creet teaching."  This  conviction,  which  bore  fruit  in 
the  Baconian  philosophy,  was  systematically  brought 
to  bear  by  Comenius  on  the  instruction  of  youth. 


IV. 

LOCKE. 


Among  the  writers  on  educn.<ion  and  inventors  of  new 
methods,  there  are  only  two  Englishmen  who  have  a 
European  celebrity — Locke  and  Hamilton.  The  latter 
of  these  did,  in  fact,  little  more  than  carry  out  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  former,  r.o  that  almost  all  the  influence 
which  England  has  had  on  the  theory  of  education 
must  be  attributed  to  Locke  alone.  Locke's  author- 
ity in  this  subject  has  indeed  been  due  chiefly  to  his 
fame  as  a  philosopher.  His  "Thoughts  on  Education," 
had  they  proceeded  from  an  unknown  author,  would 
probably  have  never  gained  him  a  reputation  even  in 
his  native  country  ;  and  yet,  when  we  read  them  as 
the  woik  of  the  great  philosopher,  we  feel  that  they 
are  not  unworthy  of  him.  He  was  no  enthusiast, 
conscious  of  a  mission  to  renovate  the  human  race  by 
some  grand  educational  discovery,  but  as  a  man  of 
calm  good  sense,  who  found  himself  encharged  with 
the  bringing  up  of  a  young  /lobleman,  he  examined 
the  ordinary  education  of  the  day,  and  when  it  proved 
unsatisfactory,  he  set  about  such  alterations  as  seemed 
expedient.  His  thoughts  were  written  for  the  advice 
of  a  friend,  and,  as  we  may  infer  from  the  title,  are 
not  intended  as  a  complete  treatise.  The  book,  how- 
ever, has  placed  its  author  in  the  first  rank  of  those 
innovators  whose  innovations,  afier  a  struggle  of  two 

(68j 


AGAINST  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  69 

hundred  years,  have  not  been  adopted,  and  yet  seem 
now  more  than  ever  likely  to  make  their  way. 

Locke's  thoughts  were  concerned  exclusively  with 
the  training  of  a  young  gentleman,  at  a  time  when 
gentlemen  were  a  caste  having  little  in  common  with 

•  the  abhorred  rascality."  The  education  of  those  ol 
inferior  station  might  be  of  interest  and  importance 
to  individuals,  but  the  nation  was  chiefly  concerned 
with  the  bringing  up  of  its  gentlemen.  "  That  most 
to  be  taken  care  of,**  he  writes,  "  is  the  gentleman's 
calling ;  for  if  those  of  that  rank  are  by  their  educa- 
tion once  set  right,  they  will  quickly  bring  all  the  rest 
into  order.'* 

Locke  would  have  the  education  of  a  gentlemar. 
intrusted  to  a  tutor.  His  own  experience  had  made 
him  no  friend  to  grammar-schools,  and  while  he  ad 
mils  the  inconveniences  of  home  education,  he  maki'j 
light  of  them  in  comparison  with  the  dangers  of  a 
system  in  which  the  influence  of  schoolmates  i.j 
greater  than  that  of  schoolmasters.  Locke*s  argu- 
ment is  this  :  It  is  the  business  of  the  master  to  train 
the  pupils  in  virtue  and  good  manners,  much  more 
than  to  communicate  learning.  This  function,  how- 
ever, must  of  necessity  be  neglected  in  schools.  "Not 
tlat  I  blame  the  schoolmaster  in  this,  or  think  it  to  be 
laid  to  his  v-harge.  The  diflerence  is  great  b^etweeu 
two  or  three  pupils  in  the  same  house  and  three  or 
fourscore  boys  lodged  up  and  down  ;  for  let  die  mas- 
ter's industry  and  skill  be  never  so  great,  it  is  impos- 
sible that  he  should  have  fifty  or  a  hundred  scholars 
undei  his  eye  any  longer  than  they  are  in  the  school 
together ;  nor  can  it  be  expected  that  he  should  in- 
struct them  successfully  in  anything  but  their  books ; 


70  LOCKE. 

the  forming  of  their  minds  and  manners  requiring  a 
constant  attention  and  particular  apphcation  to  every 
single  boy,  which  is  impossible  in  a  numerous  flock, 
and  would  be  wholly  in  vain  (could  he  have  time  to 
study  and  correct  every  one's  particular  defects  and 
wrong  inclinations),  when  the  lad  was  to  be  left  to 
himself,  or  the  prevailing  infection  of  his  fellows  the 
greatest  part  of  the  four-and-twenty  hours."  Again 
he  says,  *'  Till  you  can  find  a  school  wherein  it  is  pos- 
sible for  the  master  to  look  after 'the  manners  of  his 
scholars,  and  can  show  as  great  effects  of  his  care  of 
forming  their  minds  to  virtue  and  their  carriage  to 
good-breeding,  as  of  forming  their  tongues  to  the 
learned  languages,  you  must  confess  that  you  have  a 
strange  value  for  words  when  preferring  the  languages 
of  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans  to  that  which 
made  them  such  brave  men,  you  think  it  worth  while 
\o  hazard  your  son's  innocence  for  a  little  Greek  and 
Latin.  For  as  for  that  boldness  and  spirit  which  lads 
get  amongst  their  playfellows  at  school,  it  has  ordi- 
narily such  a  mixture  of  rudeness  and  ill-turned  con- 
fidence that  those  misbecoming  and  disingenuous  ways 
of  shifting  in  the  world  must  be  unlearned,  and  all 
tincture  washed  out  again  to  make  way  for  better  prin- 
ciples and  such  manners  as  make  a  trustworthy  man. 
He  that  considers  how  diametrically  opposite  the  skill 
of  living  well  and  managing  as  a  man  should  do  his 
affairs  in  the  world  is  to  that  malapertness,  trickery, 
or  violence  learnt  amongst  schoolboys,  will  think  the 
faults  of  a  privater  education  infinitely  to  be  pre- 
ferred to  such  improvements,  and  will  take  care  to 
preserve  his  child's  innocence  and  modesty  at  home, 


MIS   ARGUMENT   EXAMmED.  ^X 

as  being  more  of  kin  and  more  in   the  way  of  those 
quahties  which  make  a  useful  and  able  man." 

If  we  consider  how  far  Locke  is  undoubtedly  ri<jht 
in  these  remarks,  we  shall  agree  with  him  "at  least  in 
two  things:  ist,  that  virtue  and  good  manners  aie 
more  valuable  than  school  learning,  or,  indeed,  any 
learning;  2d,  that  the  influence  of  the  masters  over 
the  boys'  characters  in  a  large  school  (and  I  may  add, 
in  a  small  school  also),  is  less  than  the  influence  of 
the  boys  on  one  another.  Moreover,  those  who  know 
much  of  schoolboys  will  probably  admit  that  their  av- 
erage morality  is  not  high.  Though  not  without  strong 
generous  impulses,  the  ordinary  schoolboy-character 
is  marked  by  selfishness — not  a  premeditated,  calculat- 
ing selfishness,  but  one  which  arises  from  the  absence 
of  high  motives,  and  from  a  tacit  understanding 
among  boys  that  the  rule  is,  **  Everyone  for  himself." 
High  motives  are  no  doubt  uncommon  in  adult  age, 
and  the  same  rule  is  sometimes  acted  on  then  also, 
but  custom  requires  us,  except  in  tlie  case  of  very 
near  relations,  to  treat  one  another  with  outward 
respect  and  consideration — in  other  words,  to  behave 
unselfishly  in  social  intercourse,  and  no  such  custom 
is  established  among  schoolboys.  They  are,  there- 
fore, as  a  rule  unmannerly  in  their  behavior  to  one 
another.  Vices,  moreover,  though  not  so  prevalent 
as  bad  manners,  are  well  known  in  all  schools. 
Lying  is  often  found,  especially  among  young  bo^s; 
bad  language,  and  worse,  among  younger  and  elder 
alike.  The  natural  deduction  would  seem  to  be  th.it 
large  schools  are  the  worst  possible  places  in  which 
to  train  boys  to  virtue  and  good  manners. 

This    deduction,  however,    is   very    far    from    the 


7  2  Lockfi. 

truih.  The  direct  influence  of  ihe  pr  vate  tutor  is, 
1  believe,  less,  and  the  indirect  influence  of  the 
masters  of  a  school  more,  than  Locke  and  those  who 
side  with  him  imagine.  Indeed,  the  influence  ot' 
a  reall}'  great  head-master  over  the  whole  school  is 
immense,  as  was  proved  by  Dr.  Arnold.  Then,  again 
I'u:  system  and  the  traditions  of  a  great  school  are 
very  powerful,  and  almost  compel  a  boy  to  aim  at 
the  established  standard  of  excellence,  whereas  the 
boy  at  home  has  no  such  standard  before  him,  and  the 
hoy  at  the  small  school  may  possibly  have  one  which 
is  worse  than  none  at  all.*  As  far  as  Qur  character 
depends  on  others,  it  is  formed   mainly  by  our  com- 

*  "At  nine  or  ten  the  masculine  energies  of  the  character  are  be- 
ginning to  develop  themselves;  or,  if  not,  no  discipline  will  better 
aid  in  their  development  than  the  bracing  intercourse  of  a  great 
I'nglish  classical  school.  Even  the  selfish  are  there  forced  into  ac- 
commodating themselves  to  a  public  standard  of  generosity,  and 
the  ertcminate  into  conforming  to  a  rule  of  manliness.  I  was  my- 
self at  two  public  schools,  and  I  think  with  gratitude  of  the  benefits 
which  I  reaped  from  both;  as  also  I  think  with  gratitude  of  that 
guardian  in  whose  quiet  household  I  learned  Latin  so  eftectually. 
But  the  small  private  schools  of  which  I  had  opportunities  for 
gaihering  some  brief  experience — schools  containing  from  thirty  to 
forty  boys — were  models  of  ignoble  manners,  as  regarded  part  ot 
the  juniors,  and  of  favoritism  as  regarded  the  masters.  Nowhere 
is  the  sublimity  of  public  justice  so  broadly  exemplified  as  in  an 
English  public  school  on  the  old  Edward  VI.  or  Elizabeth  founda- 
tion. There  is  not  in  the  universe  such  an  Areopagus  of  fair  play 
»nd  abhorrence  of  all  crooked  ways  as  an  English  mob,  or  one 
of  the  time-honored  English  '  foundation '  schools."  .  (De  Qiiince3''s 
Autobiographic  Sketches,  Works,  i.  150  )  Of  late  years,  the  age 
al  which  boys  are  mostly  sent  to  the  great  public  schools  has  ad- 
vanced from  ten  or  eleven  to  thirteen  or  fourteen,  I  think  this  a 
gain  where  boys  can  be  kept  at  home,  but  very  much  the  reverse 
when  they  are  sent  as  boarders  to  private  schools.  What  tvc  stand 
urtrentlv  in  need  of  is  good  day  schools  for  the  younger  boys  of  all 
classes. 


EFFECTS   OF   FOQMAL   EDUCATION.  73 

panions  at  every  age.  Men  have  not  enough  in 
common  with  boys  to  be  their  companions^  even  when 
they  are  never  out  of  their  company.  The  charactei 
uf  boys  musl,  therefore,  be  formed  chiefly  by  boys^ 
and  where  they  associate  together  in  large  numbers 
and  are  allowed  as  much  freedom  as  is  consistent  with 
discipline,  the  healthy  feeling  of  "  open-airiness," 
the  common  sense  of  most,  and  the  love  of  righl 
which  is  found  ultimately  both  in  boys  and  men, 
prove  most  powerful  in  checking  flagrant  wrong- 
doing and  forming  a  type  of  character  which  has  many 
good  points  in  it. 

But  whichever  side  may  seem  to  have  the  best  of 
the  argument,  our  public  schools  may  fairly  meet 
their  assailants  by  an  appeal  to  results.  We  know, 
indeed,  that  parents,  as  a  rule,  are  too  careless  about 
the  learning  their  boys  acquire  at  Eaton  and  Harrow, 
and  that  many  leave  these  schools  with  little  Latin, 
less  Greek,  and  no  book  knowledge  besides ;  but 
parents  are  not  yet  indifferent  about  the  morals  and 
manners  of  their  children,  and  if  it  were  found  that 
the  generality  of  public  school-men  were  less  virtuous 
and  less  gentlemanly  than  the  generality  of  those  who 
had  been  educated  elsewhere,  our  public  schools  could 
hardly  enjoy  their  present  popularity. 

Locke  had. himself  acquired  great  influence  over 
his  pupils  a  delicate  youth,  who,  under  Locke's  care, 
became  a  strong  man.  By  this  the  philosopher  was 
led  to  exaggerate  the  effects  of  formal  education  so 
much,  that  he  ascribes  to  it  nine  parts  out  of  ten  in 

•  I  borrow  the  phrase  from  Miss  Davies,  who,  in  her  excellent 
little  book  on  "The  Higher  Education  of  Women,"  advocates  the 
■tarting  of  schools  for  girls  on  the  model  of  our  public  schools. 

7 


74  LOCKE. 

every  man.  1  believe  this  estimate  to  be  quite  erro- 
neous. Nature  seems  to  have  placed  a  fairly  healthy 
state,  both  of  body  and  mind,  as  it  were  in  stable 
equilibriuvi.  There  are  certain  things  necessar}  foi 
the  existence  of  the  body — food,  air,  exercise.  Bui 
when  a  sufficient  amount  of  these  is  once  secured, 
the  quantity  and  quality  may  vary  considerably,  with- 
out making  any  important  difference.  Moreover,  the 
healthy  body  has,  to  some  extent,  the  power  of  re- 
sisting noxious  influences.  If  we  were  as  liable  to 
Injuries  as  anxious  mothers  suppose,  we  should  have 
to  give  almost  all  our  time  and  attention  to  the  care 
of  our  health,  and  even  then  could  hardly  hope  to 
preserve  it.  The  same,  probably,  is  true  of  the  mind^ 
though  not  to  so  great  a  degree. 

These  facts  are  fully  recognized  by  the  maj'»rity  oi 
mankind,  who  look  to  them  for  a  justification  ol 
laisscz  /aire.  But  writers  on  education,  on  dietetics, 
and  the  like,  in  their  great  zeal  against  laissez  /aire, 
generally  run  into  the  opposite  extreme,  and  talk  aa 
if  narrow  indeed  were  the  way  that  leads  to  health, 
and  as  if  only  the  few  who  implicity  followed  theii 
directions  could  ever  find  it. 

If  I  agreed  with  Locke,  that  nine  parts  out  of  ten 
in  the  pupil  were  due  to  the  master,  I  should  also 
agree  that  the  master  of  a  school  cou]d  not  bestow 
proper  attention  on  all  the  boys. 

As  Locke  had  studied  medicine,  and  had  been  pre- 
vented from  undertaking  the  cure  of  other  people's 
maladies  only  by  his  own,  he  naturally  attached  great 
importance  to  physical  education,  and  begins  his  work 
with  it.  He  was  a  champion  of  the  hardening  sys- 
tem, which  has,  no  doubt,  as  Mr.  H.  Spencer  puts  it, 


PHYSICAL  EDUCATION.  75 


hardened  many  cliildren  out  of  the  world.  Scanty 
clothing,  thin  boots  with  holes  to  admit  wet,  hard  fare, 
and  irregular  meals,  are  now  condemned  by  all  our 
best  authorities.  In  other  particulars,  where  he  seems 
more  happy,  Locke's  suggestions  have  become  es- 
tablished customs.  We  have  got  to  believe  in  the 
use  of  cold  water,  though  we  should  not  think  to  ap- 
pease the  fears  of  mothers  by  quoting  the  example 
of  Seneca.  But  there  are  two  or  three  points  in 
Locke's  very  practical  directions  which  are  still  worth 
special  attention.  He  urges  that  all  clothes  should 
be  loose,  and  speaks  as  emphatically  as  every  doctor 
has  spoken  since  against  the  madness  of  **  strait- 
lacing."  He  rejoices  tliat  mothers  can  not  attempt 
any  improvements  in  their  children's  shapes  before 
birth  ;  otherwise,  says  he,  we  should  have  no  perfect 
children  born.  Do  we  not  seem  to  hear  the  voice  of 
Rousseau  ? 

Another  point  on  which  he  is  very  emphatic  is,  that 
action  of  the  bowels  should  be  secured  daily  at  the 
same  hour  by  the  force  of  habit. 

The  following  quotation  would  have  been  thought 
folly  only  a  few  years  ago.  Now,  it  has  a  chance  of 
a  fair  hearing.  '♦  Have  a  great  care  of  tampering 
that  way  [i.  e.,  with  apothecaries'  medicines],  lest, 
instead  of  preventing,  you  draw  on  diseases.  Nor 
even  upon  every  little  indisposition  is  physic  to  be 
given,  or  the  physician  called  to  cliildren,  especially 
if  he  be  a  busy  man  that  will  presently  fill  their 
windows  with  gallipots  and  their  stomachs  with  drugs. 
It  is  safer  to  leave  them  wholly  to  Nature  than  to  put 
them  into  the  harfds  of  one  forward  to  tamper,  or 
that  thinks  children  are  to  be  cured  in  ordinary  dis- 


76  LOCKE. 

tempers  b}'  anything  but  diet,  or  by  a  method  very 
little  distant  from  it ;  it  seeming  suitable  both  to  my 
reason  and  experience,  that  the  tender  constitutions 
of  cliildren  should  have  as  little  done  to  them  as  pos- 
sible, and  as  the  absolute  necessity  of  the  case  re- 
quires." Among  many  practical  suggestions  which 
he  gives  in  this  part  of  the  book,  the  following  shows 
Uiat  his  hardening  discipline  did  not  priaceed  from 
want  of  sympathy  with  the  little  oneS.  '*  Let  children 
be  very  carefully  aroused  in  the  morning  with  the  voice 
only,  and  let  them  have  nothing  but  kind  treatment 
before  they  are  wide  awake."* 

Locke's  own  summing  up  of  his  recommendations 
concerning  the  body  and  health  is  :  "Plenty  of  open 
air,  exercise,  and  sleep,  plain  diet,  no  wine  or  strong 
drink,  and  very  little  or  no  physic ;  not  too  warm  and 
strait  clothes,  especially  the  head  and  feet  kept  cold, 
and  the  feet  often  used  to  cold  water,  and  exposed  to 
wet." 

"As  the  strength  of  the  body  lies  chiefly  in  being 
able  to  endure  hardships,  so  also  does  that  of  the 
mind,  and  the  great  principle  and  foundation  of  all 
virtue  and  worth  is  placed  in  this — that  a  man  is  able 
to  deny  himself  his  own  desires,  cross  his  own  incli- 
nations, and  purely  follow  what  reason  directs  as  best, 
though  the  appeiite  leans  the  other  way." 

Again,  he  says,  "He  that  has  not  mastery  over  his 
inclinations,  he  tlyit  knows  not  how  to  resist  the  im- 
portunity of  present  pleasure  or  pain,  for  the  sake  of 
\Ahat  reason  tells  him  is  fit  to  be  done,  wants  the  true 
principle  of  virtue  and  industry,  and  is  in  danger  of 

*  Locke  is,  however,  only  copying  from  Montaigne,  who  tells  u« 
tliat.  in  his  childliood,  his  father  had  him  awakened  hy  music. 


SELF-DENIAL.  *J*J 


never  being  good  for  anything.  Th's  temper,  theie- 
lore,  so  contrary  to  unguidcd  Nature,  is  to  be  got 
betimes ;  and  this  habit,  as  tlie  true  foundation  of 
future  ability  and  happiness,  is  to  be  wrought  into  the 
mind,  as  early  as  may  be,  even  from  the  first  dawn- 
ings  of  any  knowledge  or  apprehension  in  cliildren, 
and  so  to  be  confirmed  in  them,  by  all  the  care  and 
ways  imaginable,  by  those  who  have  the  oversight 
of  their  education."  Here  the  philosopher  seems  to 
ground  all  virtue  on  Reason.  Less  intellectual  people 
might  be  inclined  to  seek  the  ground  of  most  virtue  in 
the  aflections. 

"The  practice  of  self-denial,"  says  Locke,  '*is  to 
be  got  and  improved  by  custom — made  easy  and  fa- 
miliar by  an  early  practice.  The  practice  should  be 
begun  Jrovi  their  very  cradles.  Whenever  the  chil- 
dren craved  what  was  not  fit  for  them  to  have,  they 
should  not  be  permitted  it  because  they  were  little  and 
desired  it.  Nay,  whatever  they  were  importunate  for, 
they  should  be  sure,  for  that  very  reason,  to  be  denied. 
The  younger  they  are,  the  less,  I  think,  are  their  un- 
ruly and  disorderly  appetites  to  be  complied  with  ;  and 
the  less  reason  they  have  of  their  own,  the  more  are 
they  to  be  under  the  absolute  power  and  restraint  of 
those  in  whose  hands  they  are.  From  which,  I  con- 
fess, it  will  follow,  that  none  but  discreet  people  should 
be  about  t'lem." 

"Be  sure  to  establish  the  authority  of  a  father  as 
soon  as  the  child  is  capable  of  submission,  and  can 
understand  in  whose  power  he  is.  If  yon  would 
have  him  stand  in  awe  of  you,  imprint  it  in  his  /«- 
fancy,  and  as  he  approaches  more  to  a  man  admit 
him  nearer  to  your  familiarity,  so  shall  you  have  him 


78  LOCKE. 

your  obedient  subject  (as  is  fit)  whilst  he  is  a  child, 
and  your  affectionate  friend  when  he  is  a  man."  .  This 
passage  advises  a  complete  inversion  of  the  ordinary 
mode,  which  is  to  fondle  children  when  young,  and 
to  "keep  them  in  their  proper  place"  by  a  more  dis- 
tant behavior,  an-d  by  the  more  rigorous  exercise  of 
authority,  as  they  grow  up.  But  is  not  the  treat- 
ment which  estranges  the  son  from  the  father  wrong 
in  both  cases  ?  The  difference  of  age  puts  only  too 
great  a  gulf  between  them  already.  To  make  either 
the  child  or  young  man  stand  in  awe  of  his  father  is 
not  exactly  the  way  to  bridge  this  gulf  over.  This 
can  only  be  done  by  the  father's  endeavoring  to  enter 
into  the  feelings  of  the  son,  and  seeking  his  sympathy 
in  return.  As  for  establishing  the  parental  authority, 
a  consistent  firmness  will  do  this  without  the  aid  of 
*'the  power  derived  from  fear  and  awe." 

But,  whilst  advising  that  whatsoever  rigor  is  neces- 
sary should  be  "the  more  used  the  younger  children 
are,"  Locke  is  very  strong  against  great  severity.  The 
children  must  be  taught  self-denial ;  but,  on  the  other 
side,  "if  the  mind  be  curbed  and  humbled  too  much 
in  children,  if  their  spirits  be  debased  and  humbled 
much  by  too  strict  ^  hand  over  them,  they  lose  all 
their  vigor  and  industry,  and  are  in  a  worse  slate  thar 
[in  the  other  extreme].  For  extravagant  young  fel 
lows  that  have  liveliness  and  spirit  come  sometimes 
to  be  set  right,  and  so  make  able  and  great  men,  but 
dejected  minds,  timorous  and  tame,  and  low  spirits 
are  hardly  ever  to  be  raised,  and  very  seldom  attain  Ic 
an3'thing."  "Slavish  discipline  makes  slavi,sh  temper, 
and  so  leads  to  hypocrisy  ;  and  where  it' is  most  suc- 
cessful, it  breaks  the  mind,  and  then  you  have  a  low- 


EFFECTS   OF   SEVERITY.  79 

BpiriUul,  moped  creature,  who  however  with  his  un- 
natural sobriety  he  may  please  silly  people,  who 
commend  tame,  inactive  children  because  they  make 
no  noise,  nor  give  them  any  trouble,  yet,  at  last,  will 
probably  prove  as  uncomfortable  a  thing  to  his  friends, 
as  he  will  be  all  his  life  a  useless  thing  to  himself  and 
others."  '*To  avoid  the  danger  that  is  on  either  hand, 
is  the  great  art ;  and  he  that  has  found  a  way  how  tc 
keep  up  a  child's  spirit  easy,  active,  and  free,  and  yet 
at  the  same  time  to  restrain  him  from  many  things  he 
has  a  mind  to,  and  to  draw  him  to  things  that  are  un- 
easy to  him  ;  he,  I  say,  that  knows  how  to  reconcile 
these  seeming  contradictions,  has,  in  my  opinion,  got 
the  true  secret  of  education." 

No  corporal  punishment,  Locke  tells  us,  is  useful 
where  the  shame  of  suffering  for  having  done  amiss 
does  not  work  more  than  the  pain ;  otherwise,  we 
merely  teach  boys  to  act  from  the  worst  motives  of  all — 
regard  to  bodily  pleasure  or  pain.  The  tutor  must  be 
sparing  in  his  correction,  for  it  is  his  business  to  create 
a  liking  for  learning,  and  "children  come  to  hate 
things  which  were  at  first  acceptable  to  them,  when 
they  find  themselves  whipped  and  chid  and  teazed 
about  them.  .  .  Offensive  circumstances  ordinarily 
infect  innocent  things  which  they  are  joined  with,  and 
the  very  sight  of  a  cup  wherein  any  one  uses  to  tak 
nauseous  physic  turns  his  stomach  so  that  nothing 
will  lelish  well  out  of  it,  though  the  cup  be  never  so 
clean  and  well-shaped,  and  of  the  richest  materials.' 
From  this,  Locke  would  almost  seem  to  agree  with 
Comenius,  that  no  punishment  should  be  connected 
with   learning.     The  notion  may  appear  Utopian,  bul 


8o  LOCKE. 

if  boys  could  once  be  interested  in  their  work  it  would 
not  be  found  so.* 

In  passing,  I  may  observe  that  teachers  of  a  kindl}- 
disposition  are  sometimes  guilty  of  great  cruelty,  from 
neglecting  the  truth  Locke  dwells  upon  with  such  em- 
phasis, viz.,  that  tlie  mind  will  not  act  during  any  de- 
f  ression  of  the  animal  spirits.  A  bo}'  fails  to  say  his 
task,  and  he  is  kepi  in  till  he  does  :  or  he  can  not  be  made 
to  understand  some  simple  matter,  and  the  teacher's 
patience  gets  exhausted,  when  he  has  explained  the 
thing  again  and  again,  and  then  can  get  no  answer, 
or  only  an  utterly  absurd  answer  to  the  easiest  ques- 
tion about  it.  Perhaps  the  boy  is  not  a  stupid  boy, 
so  the  master  accuses  him  of  sullen  inattention. 
The  truth  is,  that  the  boy  is  frightened  or  dejected,  and 
I'is  mind  no  longer  works  at  the  command  of  the  will. 
As  Locke  says  *'It  is  impossible  children  should 
learn  anything  whilst  their  thoughts  are  possessed 
and  disturbed  with  any  passion,  especially  fear,  which 
makes  the  strongest  impression  on  their  yet  tender 
and  weak  spirits.  Keep  the  mind  in  an  easy,  calm 
temper,  when  you  would  have  it  receive  your  instruc- 
tions, or  any  increase  of  knowledge.  It  is  as  im- 
possible  to    draw  fair  and   regular  characters   on  a 

*  Since  I  wrote  the  above,  a  remark  from  a  schoolboy  of  more 
than  average  industry  (or,  perhaps  I  ought  to  say,  of  less  than 
average  laziness)  has  rather  shaken  me  in  this  opinion:  "Some- 
how I  can't  get  up  my  work  for  Mr.  :  zve  tievcr get  anything 

if  we  don't."  Both  boys  and  grown  people  are  apt  to  shrink 
from  exertion  where  there  is  no  must  in  the  case,  even  though  the 
exertion  be  not  in  itself  distasteful  to  them.  I  doubt,  therefore,  if  a 
wise  master  would  entirely  give  up  compulsion,  though  he  would 
never  apply  it  to  young  children,  or  trust  to  it  exclusively  in  the  cas^ 
of  older  pupils. 


REWARDS   AND   PUNISHMENTS.  8l 


trembling  mind,  as  on  a  shaking  paper."  Wc  all 
know,  from  our  own  experience,  that  when  the  mind 
is  disturbed,  or  jaded,  it  no  longer  obeys  the  will, 
and  yet  in  school-work  we  always  consider  the  lads' 
mental  power  a  constant  quantity.  Mi*5  Davies  well 
says:  ♦'  Probably,  if  the  truth  were  known,  it  would 
be  found  that  injustice  and  unkindness  are  compara- 
tively  seldom  caused  by  harshness  of  disposition. 
They  are  the  result  of  an  incapacity  for  imagining 
ourselves  to  be  somebody  else"  ('*  Higher  Education 
of  Women,"  p.  137).  Tiiis  I  take  to  be  especially 
true  of  the  unkindness  of  schoolmasters. 

Rewards  and  punishments  are  largely  employed 
in  Locke's  mode  of  education  ;  but  they  are  to  be 
the  rewards  and  punishments  of  the  mind — esteem 
and  disgrace.  Tha  sense  of  honor  should  be  care- 
fully cultivated.  Whatever  commendation  the  child 
deserved  should  be  bestowed  openly  ;  the  blame  should 
be  in  private.  Flogging  is  to  be  reserved  for  stubborn- 
ness and  obstinate  disobedience.  Locke  concludes  his 
advice  on  discipline  by  saying,  that  if  the  right  course 
be  taken  with  children,  there  will  not  be  so  much 
need  of  the  application  of  the  common  rewards  and 
punishments  as  usage  has  established.  Children 
should  not  be  too  much  checked.  "  The  gamesome 
humor,  which  is  wisely  adapted  by  nature  to  their  age 
and  temper,  should  rather  be  encouraged  to  keep 
up  their  spirits  and  to  improve  their  strength  and 
health,  than  curbed  and  restrained;  and  the  chief 
art  is  to  make  all  that  they  have  to  do,  sport  anc 
play  too." 

Locke's  observations  about  manners  and  affectation 
have   merely   an    historic   interest.       The   dancing- 


82  LOCKB. 

master  has  a  higher  role  allotted  him  than  he  plays 
in  our  present  education.  Locke  writes:  '*  Since 
nothing  appears  to  me  to  give  children  so  much 
b»,*coming  confidence  and  behavior,  and  so  to  raise 
them  to  the  conversation  of  those  above  their  age,  as 
dancings  I  think  they  should  be  taught  to  dance  as 
soon  as  they  are  capable  of  learning  it.  For  though 
this  consists  only  in  outward  gracefulness  of  motion, 
yet,  I  know  not  how,  it  gives  children  manly  thoughts 
and  carriage  more  than  anything.  But,  otherwise," 
he  adds,  "  I  would  not  have  little  children  much  tor- 
mented about  punctilios,  or  niceties  of  breeding." 
Good  company  will  teach  them  good  manners.  •'  Chil- 
dren (nay,  and  men  too)  do  most  by  example.  We 
are  all  a  sort  of  cameleons,  that  still  take  a  tincture 
from  things  near  us ;  nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at  in 
children,  who  better  understand  what  they  see  than 
what  they  hear." 

When  speaking  of  company,  Locke  points  out  the 
harm  done  by  clownish  or  vicious  servants.  To 
avoid  this,  the  children  must  be  kept  as  much  as  pos- 
sible in  the  company  of  their  parents;  and  by  bein'g 
allowed  all  proper  freedom,  must  be  led  to  take  pleas- 
ure in  it. 

Although  I  would  go  much  further  than  most 
schoolmasters  in  endeavoring  to  make  the  pupil's 
intellectual  ^yutx\\o\\^  -pleasurable  to  him,  I  can  not  go 
all  the  way  with  Locke.  His  directions,  though  im- 
practicable in  a  school,  might,  perhaps,  be  carried 
ou  by  a  private  tutor — with,  I  should  say,  by  no 
means  satisfactory  results.  One  employment  Locke 
seems  to  think  is,  in  itself,  as  pleasurable  as  another ; 
80,  if  nothing  which  has  to  be  learnt  is  made  a  bur- 


**  SEASONS  OF  APTITUDE.**  83 

den,  or  imposed  as  a  task,  the  pupil  will  like  work 
just  as  well  as  play.  '*  Let  a  child  be  but  ordered  to 
whip  his  top  at  a  certain  time  every  day,  whether  he 
has,  or  has  not,  a  mind  to  it ;  let  this  be  but  required 
of  him  as  a  duty  wherein  he  must  spend  so  manj'  hours 
morning  and  afternoon,  and  see  whether  he  will  not 
be  soon  weary  of  any  play  at  this  rate."  The  tutoi 
should,  therefore,  be  on  the  watch  for  '^^ seasons  0/ apti- 
tude and  inclination  "  and  so  "  make  learning  as  much 
a- recreation  to  their  play,  as  their  play  is  recreatioi? 
to  their  learning."  Locke  gives,  however,  two  cau- 
tions, wl.ich  might  be  found  rather  to  clog  the  wheels 
of  the  chariot — first,  the  child  is  not  to  be  allowed  to 
grow  idle  ;  and  secondly,  the  mind  must  be  taught 
mastery  over  itself,  "which  will  be  an  advantage  of 
more  consequence  than  Latin  or  logic,  or  most  of  those 
things  children  are  usually  required  ,to  learn."  His 
scheme  is  no  doubt  an  admirable  one,  if  it  can  be 
carried  out  with  these  qualifications. 

As  we  have  seen,  Locke  was  opposed  to  any  harsh- 
ness about  lessons,  though  much  seems  to  have  be  n 
used  in  schools  of  that  period.  "  Why,"  asks  Locke, 
"  does  the  learning  of  Latin  and  Greek  need  the  rod, 
when  French  and  Italian  need  it  not?  Children  learn 
to  dance  and  fence  without  whipping  ;  nay,  arithmetic, 
drawing,  etc.,  they  apply  themselves  well  enough  to 
without  beating ;  which  would  make  me  suspect  that 
there  is  something  strange,  unnatural,  and  disagree- 
able to  that  age,  in  the  things  required  in  grammar- 
schools,  or  in  the  methods  used  there,  that  children 
can  not  be  brought  to  without  the  severity  of  tiie 
lash,  and  hardly  with  that  too  j  or  else  it  is  a  mistake 


84  LOCKE. 

that  those  tongues  could  not  be  taught  them  without 
beating." 

Instead  of  this  harshness,  Locke  would  use  reason' 
ivg  with  children.  "Tliis,"  says  he,  "  they  under- 
stand as  early  as  they  do  language  ;  and,  if  I  misob- 
serve  not,  they  love  to  be  treated  as  rational  creatures 
sooner  than  is  imagined.  It  is  a  pride  should  be  cher- 
ished in  them,  and  as  much  as  can  be  made  an  in- 
strument to  turn  them  by." 

In  the  necessary  qualifications  of  the  tutor,  the  first 
and  principal,  according  to  Locke,  are  breeding  and 
knowledge  of  the  world.  "  Courage,  in  an  ill-bred 
man,  has  the  air,  and  escapes  not  the  opinion,  of  bru- 
tality. Learning  becomes  pedantry  ;  wit,  buffoonery  ; 
plainness,  rusticity  ;  good-nature,  fawning  ;  and  there 
can  not  be  a  good  quality  in  him  which  want  of  breed- 
ing will  not  warp  and  disiSgure  to  his  disadvantage. 
By  means  of  the  tutor's  knowledge  of  the  world, 
Locke  hoped  to  protect  the  pupil  against  the  dangers 
which  beset  "  an  old  boy,  at  his  first  appearance,  with 
all  the  gravity  of  his  ivy-bush  about  him  ;"  but  he 
who  is  to  steer  a  vessel  over  a  difficult  course,  will 
hardly  fit  himself  for  the  task  by  taking  lessons  even 
of  the  most  skillful  pilot,  oti  shore, 

Locke's  account  of  the  work  of  a  tutor  gives  so 
much  ins:ght  into  his  notion  of  education  generally, 
that  it  seems  worth  quoting  at  length  ; — 

'.'  The  great  work  of  a  governor  is  to  fashion  the 
carriage  and  form  the  mind,  to  settle'  in  his  pupil 
good  habits  and  the  principles  of  virtue  and  wisdom, 
to  give  him,  by  little  and  little,  a  view  of  mankind, 
and  work  him  into  a  love  and  imitation  of  what  is 
excellent  and  praiseworthy;  and,  in   the  prosecution 


THE   GOVERNOR.  85 


of  it,  to  give  him  vigor,  activity,  and  industry.  The 
studies  which  he  sets  him  upon  are  but,  as  it  were, 
the  exercises  of  his  facuUies  and  employment  of  his 
time;  to  keep  him  from  sauntering  and  idleness; 
to  teach  him  application,  and  accustom  him  to  take 
pains,  and  to  give  him  some  little  taste  of  what  his 
own  industry  must  perfect.  For  who  expects  that 
under  a  tutor,  a  young  gentleman  should  be  an 
accomplished  orator  or  logician  ?  go  to  the  bottom 
of  metaphysics,  natural  philosophy,  or  mathematics? 
or  be  a  master  in  history  or  chronology?  Though 
something  of  each  of  these  is  to  be  taught  him ;  but 
it  is  only  to  open  the  door  that  he  may  look  in  and, 
as  it  were,  begin  an  acquaintance,  but  not  to  dwell 
there ;  and  a  governor  would  be  much  blamed  that 
should  keep  his  pupil  too  long,  and  lead  him  too  far 
in  most  of  them.  But  of  good  breeding,  knowledge 
of  the  world,  virtue,  industry,  and  a  love  of  reputation 
h..'  can  not  have  too  much  ;  and  if  he  have  these  he  will 
not  long  want  what  he  needs  or  desires  of  the  other. 
And  since  it  can  not  be  hoped  that  he  should  have 
time  and  strength  to  learn  all  things,  most  pains 
should  be  taken  about  that  which  is  most  necessary, 
and  that  principally  looked  after  which  will  be  of  most 
and  frequentest  use  to  him  in  the  world." 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  little  store  Locke  sets 
by  learning.  Indeed,  it  would  seem  that  in  those 
days  school-learning  was  even  more  estranged  fjora 
the  business  of  life  than  it  has  been  since.  "  A  great 
part  of  the  learning  now  in  fashion  in  the  schools  of 
Europe,"  says  Locke,  **and  that  goes  ordinarily  into 
the  round  of  education,  a  gentleman  may,  in  good 
measure,  be  unfurnished  with,  without  any  great  dis- 
paragement to  himself,  or  prejudice  to  his  affairs." 


86  LOCKE. 

Again  he  says,  "  We  learn  not  to  live,  but  to  dispute, 
and  our  education  fits  us  rather  for  the  university 
than  for  the  world.  But  it  is  no  wonder,  if  those 
who  make  the  fashion  suit  it  to  what  they  have^  and 
not  to  '^hat  their  -pupils  ivant.^  This  last  remark  is 
not  without  its  application  even  in  our  time. 

When  we  come  to  Locke's  directions  about  teaching 
we  find  him  carrying  out  his  notion  of  combining 
amusement  with  instruction.  "  Children  should  not 
have  anything  like  work  or  serious  laid  on  them ; 
neither  their  minds  nor  bodies  will  bear  it.  It  injures 
their  healths ;  and  their  being  forced  and  tied  down 
to  their  books  in  an  age  at  enmity  with  all  such  re- 
straints has,  I  doubt  not,  been  the  reason  why  a  great 
many  have  hated  books  and  learning  all  their  lives 
after.  It  is  like  a  surfeit,  that  leaves  an  aversion 
behind  that  can  not  be  removed."  "  I  know  a  person 
of  great  quality  (more  yet  to  be  honored  for  his  learn- 
ing and  virtue  than  for  his  rank  and  high  place),  who 
by  pasting  on  the  six  vowels  (for  in  our  language  *y' 
is  one)  on  the  six  sides  of  a  die,  and  the  remaining  i8 
consonants  on  the  sides  of  three  other  dice,  has  made 
this  a  play  for  his  children,  that  he  shall  win,  who,  at 
one  cast,  throws  most  words  on  these  four  dice, 
whereby  his  eldest  son,  yet  in  coats,  has  flayed  him- 
gelf  into  spcllifig  with  great  eagerness,  and  without 
once  having  been  chid  for  it,  or  forced  to  it." 

When  the  child  has  acquired  reading,  he  should 
l.ave  some  amusing  book,  such  as  .^sop  and  Reynard 
the  Fox.  Pictures  of  animals,  with  the  names  printed 
below  them,  should  be  shown  him  from  the  time  he 
knows  his  betters.  He  is  to  be  encouraged  to  give  an 
account  of  his  reading.  "  Children,"  says  Locke, 
"are  commonly  not  taught  to  make  any  use  of  their 


READING,  WRITING,    ETC.  87 

reading,  and  so  get  to  look  upon  books  as  *'  fashionable 
amusements  or  impertinent  troubles,  good  for  nothing." 

For  religious  instruction,  the  child  should  learn 
some  easy  Catechism,  and  should  read  some  portions 
of  Scripture,  but  should  not  be  allowed  to  read  the 
whole  Bible. 

When  he  begins  to  learn  writing,  he  must  be  per- 
fect in  holding  his  pen,  before  paper  is  put  before 
him:  **  for  not  only  children,  but  anybody  else  that 
would  do  anything  well,  should  never  be  put  upon 
too  much  of  it  at  once,  or  be  set  to  perfect  them- 
selves in  two  parts  of  an  action  at  the  same  time,  if 
they  can  possibly  be  separated."  The  child  should 
then  be  given  paper,  on  which  is  red-ink  writing,  in 
large  hand.  This  writinghe  is  togo  over  with  black  ink. 

He  is  next  to  learn  drawing,  "  a  thing  very  useful 
to  a  gentleman  on  several  occasions ;"  but  in  this,  as 
in  all  other  things  not  absolutely  necessary,  the  rule 
holds  good,  "  Nihil  invita  Minerva." 

He  should  now  learn  French.  "  People  are  accus- 
tomed to  the  right  way  of  teaching  that  language, 
which  is  by  talking  it  unto  children  in  constant  con- 
versation, and  not  by  grammatical  rules.  The  Latin 
tongue  might  easily  be  taught  in  the  same  way." 

•♦  Latin,"  says  Locke,  "  I  look  upon  as  absolutely 
necessary  to  a  gentleman."  But  he  ridicules  the  folly 
of  sending  boys  to  grammar-schools,  when  they  are 
intended  for  trade.  "  Yet,  if  you  ask  the  parents  why 
they  do  this,  they  think  it  as  strange  a  question  as  if 
3'ou  should  ask  them  why  they  go  to  church.  Cus- 
tom stands  for  reason  ;  and  has,  to  those  who  take  it 
for  reason,  so  consecrated  the  method,  that  it  is  almost 
religiously  observed  by  them,  and  they  stick  to  it  as 


88  LOCKE. 

if  their  children  had  scarce  an  orthodox  education 
unless  tiiey  learn  Lily's  Grammar." 

But,  though  Latin  should  be  taught  to  gentlemen, 
this  should  be  done  by  conversation,  and  thus  time 
might  be  gained  for  "  several  sciences  :  such  as  are  a 
gL'od  part  of  geograph}^  astronomy,  chronology,  anat- 
omy, besides  some  parts  of  history,  and  all  othei 
parts  of  knowledge  of  things  that  fall  under  the  senses, 
and  require  little  more  than  memory  :  for  there,  if  we 
would  take  the  true  way,  our  knowledge  should  begin, 
ind  in  those  things  should  be  laid  the  foundations  ; 
and  not  in  the  abstract  notions  of  logic  and  meta- 
physics, which  are  fitter  to  amuse  than  inform  the 
understanding  in  its  first  setting  out  toward  knowl- 
edge." Again  he  says,  "The  learning  of  Latin  being 
nothing  but  the  learning  of  words,  a  very  unpleasant 
business  to  both  3'oung  and  old,  join  as  much  other 
real  knowledge*  with  it  as  you  can,  beginning  still 
with  that  which  lies  most  obvious  to  the  senses ;  such 
as  is  the  knowledge  of  minerals,  plants,  and  animals ; 
and  particularly  timber  and  fruit  trees,  their  parts, 
and  ways  of  propagation,  wherein  a  great  deal  may 
be  taught  the  child  which  will  not  be  useless  to  the 
man  :  but  more  especially,  geography,  astronomy,  and 
anatomy."     He  would  also  introduce  some  geometry. 

But  Locke  was  not  blind  to  the  difficulty  that  few 
teachers  would  be  found  capable  of  talking  Latin. 
He  would,  therefore,  have  the  mother  make  a  be- 

*Real  knowledge  is  here  knowledge  of  M/»^5,  as  distinguished 
from  ajl  other  knowledge.  Our  loss  of  this  meaning  of  the  word 
rca/ shows  how  small  has  been  the  influence  of  the  Innovators  in 
this  country.  Both  the  word  and  the  party  have  been  more  suc- 
cessful in  Germaij' 


INTERLINEAR   TRANSLATIONS.  89 


ginning  by  gelling  a  Latin  Testament  with  the  quan- 
tities marked,  and  reading  it  with  her  children.  He 
also  suggests  the  use  of  interlinear  translations. 
♦'Take,"  says  he,  "some  easy  and  pleasant  book, 
such  as  -^sop's  Fables,  and  write  the  English  trans 
lation  (made  as  literal  as  can  be)  in  one  line,  and  the 
Latin  words  whicli  answer  each  of  them,  just  over  ii 
in  another.  Tiiese  let  the  child  read  every  day,  over 
and  over  again,  till  he  perfectly  understands  the  Latin, 
and  then  go  on  to  another  fable,  till  he  be  also  perfect 
in  that,  not  omitting  what  he  is  already  perfect  in,  bul 
sometimes  reviewing  that,  to  keep  it  in  his  memojy. 
And  when  he  comes  to  write,  let  these  be  set  him 
for  copies,  which,  with  the  exercise  of  his  hand, 
will  also  advance  him  in  Latin.  This  being  a  more 
imperfect  way  than  by  talking  Latin  unto  him,  the 
formation  of  the  verbs  first,  and  afterward  the  de- 
clension of  the  nouns  and  pronouns  perfectly  learned 
by  hearty  may  facilitate  his  acquaintance  with  the 
genius  and  manner  of  the  Latin  tongue,  which  varies 
the  signification  of  the  verbs  and  nouns  not,  as  the 
modern  languages  do,  by  particles  prefixed,  but  by 
changing  the  last  syllables.  More  than  this  of  gram- 
mar I  think  he  need  not  have  till  he  can  read  himself 
♦  Sanctii  Minerva,'  with  Scioppius  and  Ferizonius' 
notes."  It  is  no  objection  to  his  plan,  he  says,  that 
children  will  learn  merely  b}'  rote.  L-inguagt's 
must  be  learned  by  rote,  and  used  without  any  thoughi 
of  grammar:  "if  grammar  ought  lo  be  taught  af 
any  time,  it  must  be  to  one  that  can  speak  the  lan- 
guage already :  how  else  can  he  be  taught  the 
grammar  of  it?"     "  Grammar   is,  in   fact,  an   intro- 


90  LOCKE. 

duction  to  rhetoric."*  "  I  grant  the  grammar  of  a 
language  is  sometimes  very  carefully  to  be  studied ; 
but  it  is  only  to  be  studied  by  a  grown  man,  when  he 
applies  himself  to  the  understanding  of  any  language 
critically,  which  is  seldom  the  business  of  any  but 
professed  scholars."  This,  I  think,  will  be  agreed 
to,  that  if  a  gentleman  be  to  study  any  language,  it 
ought  to  be  that  of  his  own  country,  that  he  may 
understand  the  language  which  he  has  constant  use  of, 
with  the  utmost  accuracy."  And  yet  "  young  gentle- 
men are  forced  to  learn  the  grammars  of  foreign  and 
dead  languages,  and  are  never  once  told  of  the  gram- 
mar of  their  own  tongue ;  they  do  not  so  much  as 
know  that  there  is  any  such  thing,  much  less  is  it 
made  their  business  to  be  instructed  in  it.  Nor  is 
their  own  language  ever  proposed  to  them  as  worthy 
their  care  and  cultivating,  though  they  have  daily  use 
of  it,  and  are  not  seldom,  in  the  future  course  of  their 
lives,  judged  of  by  their  handsome  or  awkward  way 
of  expressing  themselves  in  it.  Whereas  the  lan- 
guages whose  grammars  they  have  been  so  much 
employed  in,  are  such  as  probably  they  shall  scarce 
ever  speak  or  write;  or  if,  upon  occasion,  this  should 
happen,  they  should  be  excused  for  the  mistakes  and 
faults  they  make  in  it.  Would  not  a  Chinese,  who 
took  notice  of  this  way  of  breeding,  be  apt  to  imagine 
that   all  our  young  gentlemen  were  designed  to  be 

*  Much  confusion  has  iriscn,  as  Bishop  Dupanloup  has  observed, 
from  the  double  use  of  the  word  grammar ;  first,  for  the  science  of 
language,  and  second,  for  the  mere  statement  of  the  facts  of  a  lan- 
guage. Those  who  teach  what  iscalled  "  Latin  Grammar"  to  chil- 
dren may  argue  that  thej  only  teach  them,  in  order  and  connection, 
facts  which  they  would  otherwise  [lave  to  pick  up  at  random.  See 
also  M.  Arnold :  Schools^  etc.,  p.  83. 


THEMES    AND    VERSES.  pi 


teacliers  and  professors  of  the  dead  languages  of 
foreign  countries,  and  not  to  be  men  of  business  in 
their  ownr^ 

Locke  grants  that  in  some  sciences  where  their 
reasons  are  to  be  exercised,  difficulties  may  be  pro- 
posed, on  purpose  to  excite  industry,  and  accustom 
the  mind  to  employ  its  own  strength  and  sagacity  in 
solving  them.  "But  yet,"  he  continues,  "I  guess 
this  is  not  to  be  done  to  children  whilst  very  young, 
nor  at  their  entrance  upon  any  sort  of  knowledge. 
Then  everything  of  itself  is  difficult,  and  the  great 
use  and  skill  of  a  teacher  is  to  make  all  as  easy  as  he 
can." 

Locke  inveighs  strongly  against  the  ordinary  prac- 
tice of  writing  themes  on  such  subjects  as  "Omnia 
vincit  amor,"  or  "  Non  licet  in  bello  bis  peccare." 
"Here  the  poor  lad  who  wants  knowledge  of  those, 
things  he  is  to  speak  of,  which  is  to  be  had  only  from 
time  and  observation,  must  set  his  invention  on  the 
rack  to  say  sometliing  where  he  knows  nothing, 
vhich  is  a  sort  of  Egyptian  tyranny,  to  bid  them 
make  bricks  who  have  not  yet  any  of  the  materials." 
Verse-making  found  equally  little  favor  in  his  eyes,' 

He  denounces  also  the  practice  of  making  boys  say 
large  portions  of  authors  by  heart,  to  strengthen  the 
memory.  He  thinks  that  "the  learning  pages  of 
Latin  by  heart  no  more  fits  the  memory  for  retention 
of  anything  else  than  the  graving  of  one  sentence  in 
lead  makes  it  the  more  capable  of  retaining  any  other 
characters.  If  such  a  sort  of  exercise  of  the  memory 
were   to   give    it   strength,    and   improve   our    parts, 

*  The  very  singular  estimate  Locke  gives  of  poetry  will  be  found 
i»  Appendix,  p.  310. 


92  LOCKE. 

»  

players,  of  all  other  people,  must  needs  have  the  best 
nuimories,  and  be  the  best  company."*  "What  the 
mind  is  intent  upon  and  careful  of,  that  it  remembers 
best;  to  which,  if  method  and  order  be  joined,  all  is 
done,  I  think,  that  can  be  for  the  help  of  a  weak 
memory;  and  he  that  will  take  any  other  w ay  to  do 
it,  especially  that  of  charging  it  with  a  train  of  other 
people's  words,  which  he  that  learns  cares  not  for, 
will,  I  guess,  scarce  find  the  profit  answer  half  tht 
time  and  pains  employed  in  it."  Boys,  however, 
should  learn  by  heart  passages  which  are  valuable  in 
themselves,  and  these  they  should  give  an  acconnt  of, 
and  repeat  again  and  again,  that  they  may  always 
remember  them,  and  may  also  be  taught  to  reflect  on 
what  they  learn. 

As  an  exercise  in  English,  "there  should  be  pro- 
-  pos'ed  to  young  gentlemen  rational  and  useful  ques- 
tions suited  to  their  age  and  capacities,  and  on 
subjects  not  w'holly  unknown  to  them,  nor  out  of 
their  way.  Such  as  these,  when  they  are  ripe  for 
exercises  of  this  nature,  they  should  cxlc7npore,  or 
after  a  little  meditation  upon  the  spot,  speak  to,  witlv 
out  penning  of  anything."  Even  at  an  earlier  age 
children  should  often  tell  a  stor}'  of  anything  they 
know,  such  as  a  fable  from  ^sop  ("  the  only  book  al- 
most that  I  know  fit  for  children  "),  and  at  first  the 
teacher  is  to  correct  only  the  most  remarkable  fault 
ihey  are  guilty  of  in  their  way  of  putting  it  together. 
They  must  also  write  narratives,  and,  when  more  ad- 
vanced, letters.     "  They  must  also  read  those  things 

*  From  the  little  I  have  seen  of  gentlemen  of  this  profession,  I 
am  by  no  means  disposed  to  consider  this,  as  Locke  does  appar- 
ently, a  reductio  ad  absurdutn. 


NATURAL   PIIILOSOPHV.  93 


that  are  well  writ  in  English,  to  perfect  their  style  in 
the  purity  of  our"  language ;  for,  since  it  is  English 
thai  an  English  gentleman  will  have  constant  use  of, 
that  is  the  language  he  should  chief!}'  cultivate,  and 
A' herein  most  care  should  be  taken  to  polish  and  per- 
fect his  style." 

On  another  point  he  was  at  variance  with  the  cus- 
tom of  iiis  day.  •'  If  the  use  and  end  of  right  reason- 
ing," he  says,  "  be  to  have  right  notions  and  a  right 
judgment  of  things,  to  distinguish  between  truth  and 
falsehood,  right  and  wrong,  and  to  act  accordingly, 
be  sure  not  to  let  your  son  be  bred  up  in  the  art  and 
formality  of  disputing,  either  practicing  it  himself  or 
admiring  it  in  others."  Of  logic  and  rhetoric  he  also 
speaks  very  disparagingly. 

To  the  studies  already  mentioned,  viz.,  geography, 
chronology,  history,  astronomy,  anatomy,  Locke 
would  add  the  principles  of  civil  law  and  the  laws  of 
England. 

"  Natural  philosophy,  as  a  speculative  science," 
writes  Locke,  "  I  imagine  we  have  none  ;  and  perhaps 
I  may  think  I  have  reason  to  say  we  never  shall  be 
able  to  make  a  science  of  it.  The  works  of  Nature 
are  contrived  by  a  Wisdom  and  operate  by  ways  too 
far  surpassing  our  faculties  to  discover,  or  capacities 
to  conceive,  for  us  ever  to  be  able  to  reduce  them  to 
a  science."  He  allows,  however,  that  "  the  incom- 
parable Mr.  Newton  has  shown  how  far  mathematics, 
applied  to  some  parts  of  Nature,  may,  upon  principles 
that  matter  of  fact  justifies,  carry  us  in  the  knowledge 
of  some,  as  I  may  call  them,  particular  provinces  of 
the  incomprehensible  universe." 

Greek   does    not    enter  into   Locke's   curriculum. 


94  LOCKtS. 

■ 

Latin  and  French,  "  as  the  world  now  goes,"  are  re- 
quired of  a  gentleman,  but  Greek  only  of  a  professed 
scholar.  If  the  pupil  has  a  mind  to  carry  his  studies 
further  for  himself,  he  can  do  so  ;  but,  as  it  is,  "  how 
many  are  there  of  a  hundred,  even  amongst  scholars 
themselves,  who  retain  the  Greek  Ihey  carried  from 
school ;  or  ever  improve  it  to  a  familiar,  ready,  and 
perfect  understanding  of  Greek  authors?"  The  tutor 
must  remember  "  that  his  business  is  not  so  much  to 
teach  the  pupil  all  that  is  knowable,  as  to  raise  in  him 
a  love  and  esteem  of  knowledge,  and  to  put  him  in  the 
right  way  of  knowing  and  improving  himself  when 
he  has  a  mind  to  it." 

In  the  matter  of  accomplishments,  Locke  is  rather 
hard  upon  music,  "  which  leads  into  jovial  company," 
and  painting,  which  is  a  sedentary,  and  therefore  not 
a  healthy  occupation.  Wrestling  he  prefers  to  fencing. 
"  Riding  the  great  horse  "  (whatever  that  may  mean) 
should  not  be  made  a  business  of. 

By  all  means,  let  a  gentleman  learn  at  least  one 
manual  trade,  especially  such^s  can  be  practiced  in 
the  open  air.  This  will  make  his  leisure  pleasant  to 
him,  and  will  keep  him  from  useless  and  dangerous 
pastimes. 

From  the  last  part  of  education — travel — Locke 
thinks  more  harm  is  commonly  derived  than  good : 
not  that  travel  is  bad  in  itself,  but  the  time  usually 
chosen,  viz.,  from  sixteen  to  twenty-one,  is  the  worst 
time  of  all. 

This  short  review  of  the  "Thoughts  on  Education," 
shows  us  that  Locke's  aim  was  to  give  a  boy  a  robust 
mind  in  a  robust  body.  His  body  was  to  endure 
hardness,   his  reason  was  to   teach  him  self-denial. 


LOCKE S    IDEAL.  95 


But  this  result  was  to  be  brought  about  by  leading, 
not  driving  him.  He  was  to  be  trained,  not  for  the 
University,  but  for  the  world.  Good  principles,  good 
manners,  and  discretion  were  to  be  cared  for  first  of 
all ;  intelligence  and  intellectual  activity  next,  and 
actual  knowledge  last  of  all.  His  spirits  were  to  be 
kept  up  by  kind  treatment,  and  learning  was  never 
to  be  made  a  drudgery.  With  regard  to  the  subjects 
of  instruction,  those  branches  of  knowledge  .which 
concern  things  were  to  take  precedence  of  those  which 
consist  of  abstract  ideas.  The  prevalent  drill  in  the 
grammar  of  the  classical  languages  was  to  be  aban- 
doned. The  mother-tongue  was  to  be  carefully  studied, 
and  other  languages  acquired  either  by  conversation, 
or  by  the  use  of  translations.  In  everything,  the 
part  the  pupil  was  to  play  in  life  was  steadily  to  be 
kept  in  view ;  and  the  ideal  which  Locke  proposed 
was  not  the  finished  scholar,  but  i\v  finished  gentle- 
man. 


V. 

ROUSSEAU'S  "  £MILE." 


.  In  education,  as  in  politics,  no  school  of  thinkers 
."las  succeeded,  or  can  succeed,  in  engrossing  all 
truth  to  itself.  No  party,  no  individual  even,  can  take 
up  a  central  position  between  the  Conservatives  and 
Radicals,  and,  judging  everything  on  its  own  merits, 
tr}'  to  preserve  that  only  which  is  worth  preserving, 
and  to  destroy  just  that  which  is  worth  destro3nng. 
Nor  do  we  find  that  judicial  minds  often  exercise  the 
greatest  influence  in  these  matters.  The  only  force 
which  can  overcome  the  vts  inertlm  of  use  and  wont 
is  enthusiasm,  and  this,  springing  from  the  discovery 
of  new  truths  and  hatred  of  old  abuses,  can  hardly 
exist  with  due  respect  for  truth  that  has  become  com- 
monplace, and  usage  which  is  easily  confounded 
with  corruptions  that  disfigure  it.  So  advances  are 
made  somewhat  after  this  manner :  the  reformer, 
urged  on  by  his  enthusiasm,  attacks  use  and  wont 
with  more  spirit  than  discretion.  Those  who  are 
wedded  to  things  as  they  are,  try  to  draw  attention 
from  the  weak  points  of  their  system,  to  the  mistakes 
or  extravagances  of  the  reformer.  In  the  end,  both 
sides  are  benefited  by  the  encounter,  and  when  their 
successors  carry  on  the  contest,  they  differ  as  much 
from  those  whose  causes  they  espouse  as  from  each 
other. 
Co6^ 


ORIGIN   OF  THE    •*  KMILE."  97 

In  this  way  we  have  aheady  made  great  progress. 
Compare,  for  instance,  our  presi-ni  leaching  of  gram- 
mar with  the  ancient  mcthoil ;  and  our  short  and 
broken  school-time  with  the  old  phm  of  keeping  boys 
in  for  five  consecutive  hours  twice  a  day.  Our  Con- 
servatives and  Reformers  are  not  so  much  at  variance 
as  their  predecessors.  To  convince  ourselves  of  this 
we  iiave  only  to  consider  the  state  of  parties  in  the 
second  half  of  the  last  century.  On  the  one  side  we 
find  the  schoolmasters  who  turned  out  the  courtiers 
of  Louis  XV.  ;  on  the  otiier,  the  most  extravagant, 
the  most  eloquent,  the  most  reckless  of  innovators — 
J.J.Rousseau.  •/ 

Rousseau  has  told  us  that  he  resolved  on  havinm*^ 
fixed  principles  by  the  time  he  was  forty  years  old.) 
Among  the  principles  of 'which  he  accordingly  laid 
in  a  stock,  were  these :  ist,  Man,  as*  he  might  be, 
is  perfectly  good;  2d,  Man,  as  he  is,  is  utterly  bad. 
To  maintain  these  opinions,  Rousseau  undertook  to 
show,  not  only  the  rotten  state  of  the  existing  society, 
which  he  did  With  notable  success,  but  also  tiie  proper 
method  of  rearing  ciiildren  so  as  to  make  them  all 
that  they  ought  to  be — an  attempt  at  construction  which 
was  far  more  difficult  and  hazardous  than  his  philip- 
pics. 

This  was  the  origin  of  the  "  Emile,"  perhaps  theH 
most  influential  book  ever  written  on  the  subject  of  j 
education.     The  school  to  which  Rousseau  belonged 
may  be  said,  indeed,  to  have  been  founded  by  Mon 
taigne,  and  to  have  met  with  a  champion,  though  not 
a  very  enthusiastic  champion,  in  Locke.     But  it  was 
reserved  for  Rousseau  to  give  this  theory  of  education 
its  complete  development,  and  to  expound  it  in  the 


98  Rousseau's  "  emile.'* 

clearest  and  most  eloquent  language.  In  the  form  in 
which  Rousseau  left  it,  the  theory  greatly  influenced 
Basedow  and  Pestalozzi,  and  still  influences  many 
educational  reformers  who  differ  from  Rousseau  as 
much  as  our  schoolmasters  differ  from  those  of 
Louis  XV. 

Of  course  as  man  was  corrupted  by  ordinary  edu- 
cation, the  ideal  education  must  differ  from  it  in  every 
respect.  "Take  the  road  directly  opposite  to  that 
which  is  in  use,  and  you  will  almost  always  do  right."* 
This  was  the  fundamental  maxim.  So  thorough  a 
radical  was  Rousseau,  that  he  scorned  the  idea  of  half- 
measures.  "I  had  rather  follow  the  established  prac- 
tice entirely,"  says  he,  "than  adopt  a  good  one  by 
halves."t 

In  the  society  of  that  tim5,  everything  was  artificial  3 
Rousseau  therefore  demanded  a  return  to  Nature. 
Parents  should  do  their  duty  in  rearing  their  own 
offspring.  "Where  there  is  no  mother,  there  can  be 
no  child. "t  The  father  should  find  time  to  bring  up 
the  child  whom  the  mother  has  suckled.'  No  duty  can 
be  more  important  than  this.  But  although  Rousseau 
seems  conscious  that  family  life  is  the  natural  state,  he 
makes  his  model  child  an  orphan,  and  hands  him  over 
tc  a  governor,  to  be  brought  up  in  the  country  without 
companions. 

This  governor  is  to  devote  himself,  for  some  years, 
entirely  to  imparting  to  his  pupil  these  difficult  arts — 

*  Prenez  le  contre-pied  de  I'usage,  et  vous  ferez  presque  toujour* 
bien. 

t  J'aimerats  mieux  suivre  en  tout  la  pratique  ^tablie,  que  d'en  pren- 
dre une  bonne  k  demi. 

X  Point  de  mfere,  point  d'enfant. 


CHILDREN   SHOULD    BE    KEPT    IGNORANT.  99  Hp 

the  art  of  being  ignorant  and  of  losing  time.     Till  tie    5- 
is  twelve  years  old,  Emile  is  to  have  no  direct  insti  jc-  »^ 
tion  whatever.     "At  that  age  he  shall  not  know  what  ^*    • 
a  book  is,"  says  Rousseau ;  though  elsewhere  we  are '  ^ 
told  that  he  will  learn  to  read  of  his  own  accord  byvf 
the  time  he  is  ten,  if  no  attempt  is  made  to  teach  him.*:^ 
He  is  to  be  under  no  restraint,  and  is  to  do  nothing  but  ^ ' 
what  he  sees  to  be  useful.  ^ 

Freedom  from  restraint  is,  however,  to  be  appar  .nt, 
not  real.  As  in  ordinary  education  the  child  employs 
all  its  faculties  in  duping  the  master,  so  in  education 
"  according  to  Nature,"  the  master  is  to  devote  him- 
self to  duping  the  child.  "  Let  him  always  be  his 
own  master  in  appearance,  and  do  you  take  care  ti^  be 
so  in  reality.  There  is  no  subjection  so  complete  an 
that  which  preserves  the  Appearance  of  liberty  ;  it  is 
by  this  means  even  the  will  is  led  capliVe." 

"  The  most  critical  interval  of  human  nature  is  that 
between  the  hour  of  our  birth  and  twelve  years  of 
age.  This  is  the  time,  wherein  vice  and  error  take 
root  without  our  being  possessed  of  any  instrument  to 
destroy  them." 

Throughout  this  season,  the  governor  is  to  be  at 
work  inculcating  the  art  of  being  ignorant  and  losmg 
time.  "  This  first  part  of  education  ought  to  be 
purely  negative.  It  consists  neither  in  teaching 
virtue  nor  truth,  but  in  guarding  the  heart  from  vice 
and  the  mind  from  error.  If  you  could  do  nothing 
and  let  nothing  be  done ;  if  you  could  bring  up  your 
pupil  healthy  and  robust  to  the  age  of  twelve  yeais, 
Without  his  being  able  to  distinguish  his  right  hand 
from  iiis  left,  the  eyes  of  his  understanding  would  be 
open  to  reason  at  your  lirst  lesson ;  void  both  of  habit 


too  HOUSSEAUS    "EMILE." 


and  prejudice,  he  would  have  nothing  in  him  to  oper- 
ate against  your  endeavois  ;  soon  under  your  instruc- 
tions he  would  become  the  wisest  of  men.  Thus,  by 
setting  out  with  doing  nothing,  you  would  produce  a 
prodigy  of  education."* 
I  "Exercise  his  body,  his  senses,  faculties,  powers, 
but  keep  his  mind  inactive  as  long  as  possible.  Dis- 
.    Irust  all  the  sentiments   he  acquires,  previous  to  the 

[ judgment  which  should  enable  him  to  scrutvnizethem. 

Prevent  or  restrain  all  foreign  impressions ;  and  in 
order  to  hinder  the  rise  of  evil,  be  not  in  too  great  a 
hurry  to  instill  good  ;  for  it  is  only  such  when  the  mind 
is  enlightened  by  reason.  Look  upon  every  delay  as 
an  advantage  :  it  is  gaining  a  great  deal  to  advance 
without  losing  anything.  Let  childhood  ripen  in  chil- 
dren. In  short,  whatever  lesson  becomes  necessary 
for  them  take  care  not  to  give  them  to-day,  if  it  may 
be  deferred  without  danger  till  to-morrow. "f 

"  Do    not,   then,    alarm  yourself  much  about   this 
apparent  idleness.     What  would  you  say  of  the  man, 

♦  La  premiere  Education  doit  done  fitre  purement  negative.  Elle 
consiste,  non  point  a  enseigner  la  vertu  ni  la  vdrile,  mais  a  garantir 
le  cceur  dii  vice  et  I'espritde  I'erreur.  Si  vous  pouviez  ne  rien  fairf 
et  ne  rien  laisser  faire;  si  vous  pouviez  amener  votre  difeve  sain  et 
robuste  h  I'Age  de  douze  ans,  sans  qu'il  sCitdistinguer  sa  main  droite 
de  sa  main  gauche,  dfes  vos  premiferes  lemons  les  yeux  de  son  en- 
tendement  s'ouvriraient  a  la  raison;  sans  preSjug^s,  sans  habitudes, 
\'.  n'au."ait  rien  en  lui  qui  piit  contrarier  I'effetde  vos  soins.  Bient6t 
11  devierdrait  entre  vos  mains  le  plus  sage  des  hommes;  et,  en  com- 
men^ant  par  ne  rien  faire,  vous  auriez  fait  un  prodige  d'education. 

t  Exercez  son  corps,  ses  organes,  ses  sens,  ses  forces,  mais  tenea 
■  eon  kme  oisive  aussi  longtemps  qu'il  se  pourra.  Redoutez  tous  les 
sentiments  antdrieurs  au  jugement  qui  les  appr^cie.  Retenez,  ar- 
rfitez  les  impressions  dtrangferes  :  et,  pour  empfecher  le  mal  de  nattre, 
nc  vous  pressez  point  dh  faire  le  bien ;  car  il  n'est  jamais  tel  que 
quand  )a  raison  I'dclair-^.     Regardez  tous  les  d^lais  comme  des  avan* 


THE    MODEL   BOY.  lOl 

who,  in  order  to  make  the  most  of  life,  should  deter- 
mine never  to  go  to  sleep?  You  would  say,  The  man 
is  mad  :  he  is  not  enjoying  the  time  ;  he  is  depriving 
himself  of  it :  to  avoid  sleep  he  is  hurrying  toward 
death.  Consider,  then,  that  it  is  the  same  here,  anH 
that  childhood  is  the  sleep  of  reason."* 

Such  is  the  groundwork  of  Rousseau's  educational 
scheme.  His  ideal  boy,  of  twelve  years  old,  is  to  be 
a  thoroughly  well-developed  animal,  with  every  bodily 
sense  trained  to  its  highest  perfection.  '*His  ideas," 
says  Rousseau,  "are  confined,  but  clear;  he  knows 
nothing  by  rote,  but  a  great  deal  by  experience.  If 
he  reads  less  well  than  another  child  in  our  books,  he 
reads  better  in  the  book  of  nature.  His  understanding 
does  nut  lie  in  his  tongue,  but  in  his  brain  ;  he  has 
less  memory  than  judgment ;  he  can  speak  only  one 
language,  but  then  he  understands  what  he  says  ;  and 
although  he  may  not  talk  of  things  so  well  as  others, 
he  will  do  them  mych  better.  He  knows  nothing  at 
all  of  custom,  fashion,  or  habit;  what  he  did  yesterday 
has  no  influence  on  what  he  is  to  do  to-day  ;  he  follows 
no  formula,  is  influenced  by  no  authority  or  example, 
but  acts  and  speaks  just  as  it  suits  him.  Do  not,  then, 
expect  from  him  set  discourses  or  studied  manners, 

tages  :  c'est  gagncr  beaiicoitp  que  d'avancer  vers  le  terme  sans  rien 
perdre;  laissez  innrir  renlance  dans  Ics  enfants.  Enfin  que. qua 
le<,'on  leiir  devient-elle  nCcessairc,  gardez-vous  de  la  donner  au- 
jourd'tiui,  si  vous  pouvez  diftorer  jusqu'a  demain  sans  danger. 

*  Effrajez-vous  done  pcu  de  cette  oisivete  prctendue.  Qiie  diriez- 
voui  d'lin  homme  qui,  pour  mottre  toute  la  vie  a  profit,  ne  voudrail 
jamais  donnir?  Vousdiricz:  Cet  homme  est  insenso;  ii  ne  jouil 
pas  du  temps,  il  se  I'Ote;  pour  fuir  le  sommeil  il  court  a  la  mort- 
Songcz  done  que  c'est  ici  la  meme  chose,  et  que  I'enfancfc  ost  le  som 
qieil  de  la  raison. 


I02  ROUSSEAU  S    "  EMILE." 

but  always  the  faithful  expression  of  his  ideas,  and 
the  conduct  which  springs  naturally  from  his  incl  na- 
tions."* Furthermore,  this  model  chiki  looks  upon 
all  men  as  equal,  and  will  ask  assistance  from  a  king 
as  readily  as  from  a  foot-boy.  He  does  not  under- 
stand what  a  command  is,  but  will  readily  do  anything 
for  another  person,  in  order  to  place  that  person  undei 
an  obligation,  and  30  increase  his  own  rights.  He 
knows  also  no  distinction  between  work  and  play.  As 
a  climax  to  this  list  of  wonders,  I  may  add  that  his 
imagination  has  remained  inactive,  and  he  only  sees 
what  is  true  in  reality. 

The  reader  will  probably  have  conclrded,  by  this 
lime,  that  no  child  can  possibly  be  so  educated  as  to 
lesemble  £mile,  and,  perhaps,  further,  that  no  wise 
lather  would  so  educate  his  son,  if  it  were  possible. 
A  child  who  does  not  understand  what  a  command  is, 
and  who  can  be  induced  to  do  anything  for  another 
only  by  the  prospect  of  laying  that  person  under  an 
obligation  ;  who  has  no  habits,  and  is  guided  merely 
by  his  inclinations — such  a  child  as  this  is,  fortunately, 
nothing  but  a  dream  of  Rousseau's. 

*  Ses  idt'cs  sont  bornees,  mais  nettes;  s'il  ne  sait  rien  par  ccEur,  il 
sail  beaucoup  par  experience;  s'il  lit  moins  bien  qu'un  autre  enfant 
dans  nos  livres,  il  lit  mieux  dans  celui  de  la  nature;  son  esprit  n'esl 
pas  dans  sa  langue,  mais  dans  sa  t"te;  il  a  nioins  do  momoire  qu 
de  jugement;  il  ne  sait  parler  qu'un  langage,  mais  il  entend  ce  qu'i 
dit:  et  s'il  ne  dit  pas  si  bien  que  les  autres  disent,  en  revanche  il 
fait  mieut  quMls  ne  font.  11  ne  sait  ce  que  c'estque  routine,  usage 
habitude;  ce  qu'il  fit  hier  n'influe  point  sur  ce  qu'il  fait  aujourd'hui 
il  ne  suit  jamais  de  formule,  ne  c">de  point  ix  I'autoritd  ni  a  I'exem- 
pie,  et  n'agit  ni  ne  parle  que  comme  il  lui  convient.  Ainsi,  n'at- 
tendez  pas  de  lui  des  discours  diet's  ni  dcs  maniircs  I'tudices,  mais 
raujouro  I'expression  fidcle  de  scs  idoes  et  la  conduite  qui  nait  df  wi 
penchants. 


THREE    KINDS    OF   EDUCATION.  IO3 

But  fantastical  as  Rousseau  often  is,  the  reader  of 
his  '^tmile"  is  struck  again  and  again,  not  more  by 
the  charm  of  his  language  than  by  his  insight  into 
child-nature,  and  the  wisdom  of  his  remarks  upon  it.. 

The  "  fimile"  is  a  large  work,  and  the  latter  part  is 
mtercsting  rather  from  a  literary  and  ph'.losophical 
point  of  view,  than  as  it  is  connected  with  education. 
I  purpose,  therefore,  confining  my  attention  to  tlie 
earlier  portion  of  the  book,  and  giving  some  of  the 
passages,  of  which  a  great  deal  since  said  and  writ- 
ten on  education  has  been  a  comparatively  insipid 
decoction. 

♦*  All  things  are  good,  as  their  Creator  made  them, 
but  everything  degenerates  in  the  hands  of  man."* 
These  are  the  first  words  of  the  ♦*  £mile,"  and  the  key- 
note of  Rousseau's  philosophy. 

"  We  are  born  weak,  we  have  need  of  strength  ;  we 
are  born  destitute  of  everything,  we  have  need  of 
assistance ;  we  are  born  stupid,  we  have  need  of  un- 
derstanding. All  that  we  are  not  possessed  of  at  our 
birth,  and  which  we  require  when  grown  up,  is  be- 
stowed on  us  by  education. 

"This  education  we  receive  from  nature,  from  men, 
or  from  things.  The  internal  development  of  our 
organs  and  faculties  is  the  education  of  nature :  the 
use  we  are  taught  to  make  of  that  development  is  the 
education  given  us  by  men ;  and  in  the  acquisitions 
made  by  our  own  experience  on  the  objects  that  smr 
round  us,  consists  our  education  from  things. "f   ' '  Since 

•Tout  est  bien,  sortant  des  mains  de  I'Auteur  des  choses;  tout 
d^gen^re  entre  les  mains  de  I'homme. 

fNous  naissons  faibles,  nous  avons  bcsoin  de  forces;  nous  nais- 
tons  depourvus  de  tout,  nous  avons  besoin  d'assistance ;  nous  nais 


I04  Rousseau's  "emile." 

the  concurrence  of  these  three  kinds  of  education  is 
necessary  to  their  perfection,  it  is  by  that  one  which 
is  entirely  independent  of  us,  we  must  regulate  the 
two  others."* 

Now  "  to  live  is  not  merely  to  breathe  ;  it  is  to  act, 
it  is  to  make  use  of  our  organs,  our  senses,  our  facul- 
ties, and  of  all  those  parts  of  ourselves  which  give 
us  the  feeling  of  our  existence.  The  man  who  has 
lived  most,  is  not  he  who  has  counted  the  greatest 
number  of  years,  but  he  who  has  most  thoroughly  felt 
li'fe."t 

The  aim  -of  education,  then,  must  be  complete 
livirg. 

But  ordinary  education  (and  here  for  a  moment  I 
am  expressing  my  own  conviction,  and  not  simply 
rcportmg  Rousseau),  instead  of  seeking  to  develop 
ihe  life  of  the  child,  sacrifices  childhood  to  the  ac- 
quirement of  knowledge,  or  rather  the  semblance  of 
knowledge,  which  it  is  thought  will  prove  useful  to 
the  youth,  or  the  man.     Rousseau's  great  merit  lies 

sons  stupides,  nous  avons  besoin  de  jugement.  Toufce  que  nous 
n'uvons  pas  a  notre  naissance,  et  dont  nous  avons  besoin  etant  grands, 
no'is  est  donne  par  I'cducation.  Cette  education  nous  vient  ou  de 
!a  nature,  ou  des  hommes,  ou  des  choses.  Le  developpenient  interne 
dc  jios  facultes  et  de  nos  organes  est  I'education  de  la  nature ;  i'usage 
qu'un  nous  apprend  a  faire  de  ce  dcveloppement  est  I'oducation  des 
homines ;  et  I'acquis  de  notre  propre  experience  sur  les  objets  qui 
nour-  afTectcnt  est  I'cducation  des  choses. 

•  I'uisque  le  concours  des  trois  educations  est  ndcessaire  a  leur  per- 
fer.tion,  c'est  sur  celle  a  laquelle  nous  ne  pouvons  rien  quMl  faut  diriger 
les  deux  autres. 

t  Vivrc  ce  n'est  pas  respirer,  c'est  agir ;  c'est  faire  usage  de  nos  or- 
ganes, de  nos  sens,  de  nos  facultos,  de  toutes  les  parties  de  nous-memes 
qui  nous  donnent  le  sentiment  de  notre  existence.  L'homnie  qui  a 
le  plus  vecu  n'est  pas  ceiui  qui  a  comptc  le  plus  d'annes,  mais  celui 
qui  a  le  plus  senti  la  vie. 


CHILDHOOD    NOT   UNDERSTOOD   BY   ADULTS.      IO5 

in  his  having  exposed  this  fundamerftal  error.  He 
says,  very  truly,  "People  do  not  understand  child- 
hood. With  the  false  notions  we  have  of  it,  the 
further  we  go  the  more  we  blunder.  The  wisest 
apply  themselves  to  what  it  is  important  to  men  to 
know,  without  considering  what  children  are  in  a 
condition  to  learn.  They  are  always  seeking  the  man 
in  the  child^  without  reflecting  what  he  is  before  he 
can  be  a  man.  This  is  the  study  to  which  I  have 
applied  myself  most ;  so  that,  should  my  practical 
scheme  be  found  useless  and  chimerical,  my  observa- 
tion will  always  turn  to  account.  I  piay  possibly 
have  taken  a  very  bad  view  of  what  ought  to  be  done, 
but  I  conceive  I  have  taken  a  good  one  of  the  subject 
to  be  wrought  upon.  Begin  then  by  studying  your 
pupils  better ;  for  most  assuredly  you  do  not  at 
present  understand  them.  So  if  you  read  my  book 
with  that  view,  I  do  not  think  it  will  be  useless  to 
you."*  "  Nature  requires  children  to  be  children 
before  they  are  men.  If  we  will  pervert  this  order,  we 
shall  produce  forward  fruits,  having  neither  ripeness 
nor  taste,  and  sure  soon  to  become  rotten ;  we  shall 
have  young  professors  and  old  children.     Childhood 

*  On  ne  connait  point  I'enfance :  sur  les  fausses  idees  qu'on  en  a, 
plus  on  va,  plus  on  s'egare.  Les  plus  sages  s'attachent  A  ce  qu'il  im- 
porte  aux  homines  de  savoir,  sans  considorer  ce  que  lesenfants  sont 
en  etat  d'apprendre.  lis  cherchent  toujours  rhomme  dans  -'enfant, 
Bans  penser  a  ce  qu'il  est  avant  que  d'etre  homme.  Voila  I'otude  a 
laquelle  jc  me  suis  le  plus  appliqui,  afin  que,  quand  toute  ma  meth- 
ode  serait  chimerique  et  fausse,  on  put  toujours  profiler  de  mes  ob- 
servations. Je  puis  avoir  tres-mal  vu  ce  qu'il  Tiut  faire ;  mais  je 
crois  avoir  bien  vu  le  sujet  sur  lequcl  on  tloit  opcrer.  Commencea 
done  par  mieux  otudier  vos  olcves;  car  tr6s-assurement  vous  ne  Ie« 
connaissez  point :  or,  si  vous  lisez  ce  livre  dans  cette  vue,  je  ne  le 
crois  pas  san&  utility  pour  vous. 


io6  Rousseau's  "  emile." 

has  its  manner  of  seeing,  perceiving,  and  thinking, 
peculiar  to  itself;  nothing  is  more  absurd  than  our 
being  anxious  to  substitute  our  own  in  its  stead."* 
"  We  never  know  how  to  put  ourselves  in  the  place 
o(  children  ;  we  do  not  enter  into  their  ideas,  we 
lend  them  our  own  :  and  following  always  our  own 
train  of  thought,  we  fill  their  heads,  even  while  we 
are  discussing  incontestible  truths,  with  extravagance 
and  error."!  *'  I  wish  some  judicious  hand  would  give 
us  a  treatise  on  the  art  of  studying  children  ;  an  art 
of  the  greatest  importance  to  understand,  though 
fathers  and  preceptors  know  not  as  yet  even  the 
elements  of  it. "J 

The  governor,  then,  must  be  able  to  sympathize 
with  his  pupil,  and,  on  this  account,  Rousseau  re- 
quires that  he  should  be  young.  "  The  governor  of 
a  child  should  be  young,  even  as  young  as  possible, 
consistent  with  his  having  attained  necessary  discre- 
tion and  sagacity.  I  would  have  him  be  himself  a 
child,  that  he  might  become  the  companion  of  his 
pupil,  and  gain   his  confidence  by  partaking  of  his 

*  La  nature  veut  que  les  enfants  soient  enfants  avant  que  d'etre 
hormnes.  Si  nous  voulons  pervertir  cet  ordre,  nous  produirons  des 
fruits  precoces  qui  n'auront  ni  maturito  ni  saveur,  etne  tarderontpas 
a  so  corrompre  :  nous  aurons  de  jcunes  docteurs  et  de  vieux  enfants. 
L'enfance  a  des  manicres  de  voir,  de  penser,  de  sentir,  qui  lui  sonl 
propres;  rien  n'est  moins  sense  que  d'y  vouloir  substituer  les 
notres. 

t  Nous  ne  savons  jamais  nous  mettre  a  la  place  des  enfants ;  nous 
n'entrons  pas  dans  leurs  idoes,  nous  leur  prctons  les  notres;  et,  sui- 
vanl  toujours  nos  propres  raisonnements,  avec  des  chaines  de  v^rites 
nous  n'entassons  qu'extravagances  et  qu'erreurs  dans  leur  tote. 

X  Jo  voudrais  qu'un  homme  judicieu.\  nous  donnat  un  traito  de  Pari 
d  observer  les  enfants.  Cet  art  serait  tres-important  a  connaitre  •  'e» 
pcres  et  les  inaitres  n'en  ont  pas  encore  les  elements. 


FUNCTIONS   OF   THE   GOVERNOR.  IO7 


amusements.  Tliere  are  not  things  enough  in  com- 
mon between  childhood  and  manhood,  to  form  a  sohd 
altacliment  at  so  great  a  distance.  Children  sometimes 
caress  old  men,  but  they  never  love  them."* 

The  governor's  functions  are  threefold  :  1st,  that  of 
keeping  off  hurtful  influences — no  light  task  in  Rous- 
seau's eyes,  as  he  regarded  almost  every  influence 
from  the  child's  fellow-creatures  as  hurtful ;  2d,  that 
of  developing  the  bodily  powers,  especially  the  senses  ; 
3d,  that  of  communicating  the  one  science  for  chil- 
dren— moral  behavior.  In  all  these,  even  in  the  last, 
he  must  be  governor  rather  than  preceptor,  for  it  is 
less  his  province  to  instruct  than  to  conduct.  He  mutt 
not  lay  down  precepts,  but  teach  his  pupil  to  discover 
them.  "  I  preach  a  difficult  art,"  says  Rousseau,  "the 
art  of  guiding  without  precepts,  and  of  doing  every 
thing  by  doing  nothing. "f 

*Je  reinarquerai  seuletnent,  contre  I'opinion  commune,  que  le 
gouveriicur  d'un  enfant  doit  etre  jeunc,  et  mome  aussi  ieune  que 
peullVtre  un  homme  sage.  Je  voudrais  qu'il  fiit  lui-memo  enfant, 
s'il  ^'tait  possible;  qu'il  put  devenir  le  compagnon  de  son  ^Icve,  et 
s'attircr  sa  confiance  en  partageant  ses  amusements.  It  n'>  a  pas 
assex  de  clioscs  communes  cntrc  I'cnfance  et  IVige  miir,  pour  qu'il  se 
forme  jamais  un  attachement  bien  solidc  a  cette  distance.  Les  en- 
fanls  flattent  quelquefois  les  vieillards,  mais  ils  ne  les  aiment  ja- 
mais. 

Here,  and  in  some  other  instances,  I  have  selected,  as  charactsr 
istic  of  their  author,  opinions  which  I  believe  to  be  totally  ci 
roncous.  The  distance  between  the  child  and  the  man  is  no  doubl 
very  great  (so  great,  indeed,  that  the  distance  between  the  yoimg 
man  and  the  old  bears  no  appreciable  ratio  to  it)  :  but  this  does  not 
preclude  the  most  intense  affection  of  the  young  toward  grown  per- 
sons of  any  age,  as  our  individual  experience  has  probably  con- 
vinced us-  Perhaps  the  old  have  more  in  common  with  children 
Uian  those  have  who  are  in  the  full  vigor  of  manhood. 

tje  vouspruchc  un  art  difficile;  c'estdc  gouverner  sans  proceptes, 
et  de  tout  faire  en  ne  faisant  rien. 


io8  Rousseau's  ♦*  emile.'* 

The  most  distinctive  characteristic  of  childhood  is 
vitaHty.  "In  the  heart  of  the  old  man  the  failing 
energies  concentrate  themselves  :  in  that  of  the  child, 
they  overflow  and  spread  outward ;  he  is  conscious 
of  life  enough  to  animate  all  that  surrounds  him. 
Whether  he  makes  or  mars,  it  is  all  one  to  him  :  he  is 
satisfied  with  having  changed  the  state  of  things ;  and 
every  change  is  an  action."*  This  vitality  is  to  be 
allowed  free  scope.  Swaddling-clothes  are  to  be  re- 
moved from  infants  ;  the  restraints  of  school  and  book- 
learning  from  children.  Their  love  of  action  is  to  be 
freely  indulged. f 

The  nearest  approach  to  teaching  which  Rousseau 
permitted,  was  that  which  became  afterward,  in  the 
hands  of  Pestalozzi,  the  system  of  object-lessons. 
"  As  soon  as  a  child  begins  to  distinguish  objects,  a 
proper   cho.ce  should  be  made  in  those  which  are 

*  L'activito  d^faillante  se  concentre  dans  le  ccEur  du  vieillard; 
dans  cclui  de  I'enfant  elle  est  surabondante  et  s'^tend  an  dehors;  U 
se  sent,  pour  ainsi  dire,  assez  de  vie  pour  animer  tout  ce  qui  I'envi- 
ronne.  Qii'il  fasse  ou  qu'il  defusse,  il  n'importe ;  il  suffit  qu'il  change 
I'ctat  des  choses,  et  tout  changement  est  une  action.  Qiie  s'il  sem- 
ble  avoir  plus  de  penchant  a  dctruire,  ce  n'est  point  par  mochancete 
c'est  que  I'action  qui  forme  est  toujours  Icnte,  et  que  celle  qui  de- 
truit,  etant  plus  rapide,  convient  mieux  a  sa  vivacito. 

t  J-ord  Stanley,  than  whom  no  man  can  be  more  "  practical,"  fol- 
lows Rousseau  in  this  particular.  "  People  are  beginning  to  find 
out,  what,  if  they  would  use  their  own  observation  more,  and  not 
follow  one  another  like  sheep,  they  would  have  found  out  long  ago, 
that  it  is  doing  positive  harm  to  a  young  child,  mental  and  bodily 
harm,  to  keep  it  learning,  or  pretending  to  learn,  the  greater  pari 
of  the  day.  Nature  says  to  a  child,  '  Run  about,'  the  schoolmastei 
says,  '  Sitslill;'  and  as  the  schoolmaster  can  punish  on  the  spot, 
and  Nature  only  long  afterward,  he  is  obeyed,  and  health  and  brain 
suffer." — speech  reported  in  "  Evcnhig  Mail,''  December  9,  1864. 


OBJECT-LESSONS.  IO9 


presented  to  him."*  •*  He  must  learn  to  feel  heat  and 
cold,  the  hardness,  softness,  and  weight  of  bodies ;  to 
judge  of  ihcir  magnitude,  figure,  and  other  sensible 
qualities,  by  looking,  touching,  hearing,  and  particu- 
larly by  comparing  the  sight  with  the  touch,  and 
judging,  by  means  of  the  eye,  of  the  sensalijn 
acquired  by  the  fingers. "f  These  exercises  should 
be  continued  through  childhood.  *'A  child  has 
neither  the  strength  nor  the  judgment  of  a  man  ;  but 
he  is  capable  of  feeling  and  hearing  as  well,  or  at  least 
nearly  so.  His  palate  also  is  as  sensible,  though  less 
delicate  :  and  he  distinguisl^es  odors  as  well,  though 
not  with  the  same  nicety.  Of  all  our  faculties,  the 
senses  arc  perfected  the  first :  these,  therefore,  are  the 
first  we  should  cultivate ;  they  are,  nevertheless,  the 
only  ones  that  are  usually  forgotten,  or  the  most 
neglected. "J  *'  Observe  a  cat,  the  first,  time  she  comes 
into  a  room  ;  she  looks  and  smells  about ;  she  is  not 
easy  a  moment :  she  distrusts  everything  till  every- 
thing is  examined  and  known.  *  In  the  same  manner 

*  Des  que  Tenfant  commence  i\  distinguer  les  objets,  il  importe  de 
mettre  du  choix  dans  ceux  qu'on  lui  montre. 

t  II  veut  tout  toucher,  tout  manier :  ne  vous  opposez  point  h  cette 
inquietude;  elle  lui  sugg<"'re  un  apprentissage  tr^s-necess.iire.  Cast 
ainsi  qu'il  apprend  h  sentir  la  chaleur,  le  froid,  ladurete,  la  mollesse, 
la  pcsanteur,  la  Icgereto  des  corps ;  a  juger  de  leur  grandeur,  de  leiir 
figure  et  de  toutes  leurs  qualitos  sensiblcs,  en  regardant,  palpant, 
^coutant,  surtout  en  comparant  la  vue  au  toucher,  en  estimant  a 
I'oeil  la  sensation  qu'ils  feraient  sous  ses  doigts. 

X  Un  enfant  est  moins  grand  qu'un  homme;  il  n'a  ni  sa force  ni  sa 
raison  :  mais  il  voit  et  entend  aussi  bien  que  lui,  ou  h  trcs-peu  pres; 
il  a  le  gout  aussi  sensible,  quoiqu'il  I'ait  moins  d'i'licat,  et  distingue 
aussi  bien  les  odeurs,  quoiqu'il  n'y  mette  pas  la  mome  sensualite. 
I^s  premieres  facult's  qui  se  formcnt  et'se  perfectionnent  en  nou« 
sont  les  sens.  Ce  sont  done  les  premieres  qu'il  faudrait  culliver;  c« 
•out  les  seules  qu'on  oublie  ou  ceilcs  qu'on  neglige  le  plu9. 


no  ROUSSEAU  S    "  EMILE. 


does  a  i  hilcl  examine  into  everything,  when  lie  begins 
to  walk  about,  and  enters,  if  I  may  so  say,  the  apart- 
ment of  the  world.  All  the  difference  is,  that  the 
sight,  which  is  common  to  both  the  child  and  the 
cat,  is  in  the  first  assisted  by  the  feeling  of  the 
liands,  and  in  the  latter  by  the  exquisite  scent  which 
nature  has  bestowed  on  it.  It  is  the  rijiht  or  wroni' 
cultivation  of  this  inquisitive  disposition  that  makes 
children  either  stupid  or  expert,  sprightly  or  dull, 
sensible  or  foolish.  The  primary  impulses  of  man, 
urging  him  to  compare  his  forces  with  those  of  the 
objects  about  him,  and  to  discover  the  sensible  quali- 
ties of  such  objects  as  far  as  they  relate  to  him,  his 
first  study  is  a  sort  of  experimental  philosophy  rela- 
tive to  self-preservation,  from  which  it  is  the  custom 
to  divert  him  b}'^  speculative  studies  before  he  has 
found  his  place  on  this  earth.  During  the  time  thai 
his  supple  and  delicate  organs  can  adjust  them- 
selves to  the  bodies  on  which  they  should  act ;  while 
his  senses  are  as  yet  exempt  from  illusions ;  this 
is  the  time  to  exercise  both  the  one  and  the  other 
in  their  proper  functions ;  this  is  the  time  to  learn 
the  sensuous  relations  which  things  iiave  with  us. 
As  everything  that  enters  the  human  understand- 
ing is  introduced  by  the  senses,  the  first  reason  in 
man  is  a  sensitive  reason  ;  and  this  serves  as  the  basis 
of  his  intellectual  reason.  Our  first  instructors  in 
philosophy  are  our  feet,  hands,  and  eyes.  Substitu- 
ting books  for  all  this  is  not  teaching  us  to  reason,  but 
teaching  us  to  use  the  reasoning  ot  others ;  it  is  teaching 
as  to  believe  a  great  deal,  and  never  to  know  anything." 
"To  exercise  any  art,  we  must  begin  by  procuring 
the  necessary  implements  ;  and  to  employ  those  imple- 


EDUCATION   OF  THE   SENSES.  Ill 

ments  to  any  good  purpose,  they  should  be  made 
suflicienlly  solid  for  their  intended  use.  To  learn  to 
think,  therefore,  we  should  exercise  our  limbs,  and 
our  organs,  which  are  the  instruments  of  our  intelli- 
gence ;  and  in  order  to  make  the  best  use  of  those  in- 
struments, it  is  necessary  that  the  body  furnishing 
them  should  be  robust  and  hearty.  Thus,  so  far  is  a 
sound  understanding  from  being  independent  of  the 
body,  that  it  is  owing  to  a  good  constitution  that  the 
operations  of  the  mind  are  effected  with  facility  and 
certainty."*     "To  exercise  the  senses  is  not  merely  to 

•  Voyez  un  chat  entrer  pour  la  premiere  fois  dansune  chambre :  il 
visite,  il  regarde,  il  flaire,  il  ne  reste  pas  un  moment  en  repos,  il  ne 
se  fie  h  rien  qu'aprcs  avoir  tout  examine,  tout  connu.  Ainsi  fait  un 
enfant  commenf,ant  a  marcher,  et  entrant  pour  ainsi  dire  dans  I'es- 
pace  du  monde.  Toute  la  difference  est  qu'ii  la  vue,  commune  a 
I'enfant  et  au  chat,  le  premier  joint,  pour  observer,  les  mains  que  lui 
donna  la  nature,  ct  I'autre  I'odoiat  subtil  dont  elle  I'a  doue.  Cette 
disposition,  bien  ou  mal  cultivce,  est  ce  qui  rend  les  enfants  adroits 
ou  lourds,  pesants  ou  dispos,  dtourdis  ou  prudents. 

Les  premiers  mouvements  naturels  de  I'homme  ^tant  done  de  se 
mesurer  avec  tout  ce  qui  I'environne,  et  d'dprouver  dan?  chaque  ob- 
jet  qu'il  aper^oit  toutes  les  qualit^s  sensiblcs  qui  peuvent  <e  rapporter 
k  lui,  sa  premifere  ^tude  est  une  sorte  de  phvsique  exp^rimentale  re- 
lative k  sa  propre  conservation,  ct  dont  on  le  detourne  par  des  dtudes 
sp^culativcs  avant  qu'il  ait  reconnu  sa  place  ici-bas.  Tandis  qu«  ees 
organes  ddlicats  et  flexibles  peuvent  s'ajuster  aux  corps  sur  lesquels  ils 
doivent  agir,  tandis  que  ses  sens  encore  purs  sont  exempts  d'illusion, 
c'est  le  temps  d'excercer  les  uns  et  les  autres  ;iux  fonctions  qui  leur 
sont  propres;  c'est  le  temps  d'apprendre  a  connaitre  les  rapports 
■ensibles  que  les  choses  ont  avcc  nous.  Comme  tout  ce  qui  eiitre 
dans  I'entendement  humain  y  vient  par  les  sens,  la  premidre  raison  do 
I'homme  est  une  raison  sensitive ;  c'est  elle  qui  sert  de  base  a  la  raison 
intellectuelle :  nos  premiers  maitrcs  de  philosophic  sont  nos  pieds, 
nos  mains,  nos  jeux.  Substituer  des  livres  a  tout  cela,  ce  n'est  pas 
nous  apprendre  A  raisonner,  c'est  nous  apprendre  h  nous  servirde  la 
raison  d'autrui ;  c'est  nous  apprendre  a  beaucoup  croire,  et  a  ne  ja- 
mais rien  savoir. 

Pour  excercer  un  art,  il  faut  commenccr  par  s'en  procurer  les  in- 


ri2  Rousseau's  "  emile.** 

make  use  of  them ;  it  is  to  learn  rightly  to  judge  by 
them  ;  to  learn,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  to  per- 
ceive ;  for  we  know  how  to  touch,  to  see,  to  hear,  onl} 
as  we  have  learned.  Some  exercises  are  purely  nat- 
ural and  mechanical,  and  serve  to  make  the  body 
strong  and  robust,  without  taking  the  least  hold  on  the 
judgment :  such  are  those  of  swimming,  running, 
leaping,  whipping  a  top,  throwing  stones,  etc.  All 
these  are  very  well :  but  have  we  only  arms  and  legs  ? 
Have  we  not  also  eyes  and  ears;  and  are  not  these 
organs  necessary  to  the  expert  use  of  the  former? 
Exercise,  therefore,  not  only  the  strength,  but  also  all 
the  senses  that  direct  it ;  mj^ke  the  best  possible  use 
of  each,  and  let  the  impressions  of  one  confirm  those 
of  another.     Measure,  reckon,  weigh,  compare.*** 

struments;  et,  pour  pouvoir  employer  utilement  ces  instruments,  il 
faut  les  faire  assez  solides  pour  resister  a  leur  usage.  Pour  apprendre 
a  penser,  il  faut  done  excercer  nos  membrcs,  nos  sens,  nos  organes, 
qui  sont  les  instruments  de  notre  intelligence  ;  et  pour  tirer  tout  le 
parti  possible  de  ces  instruments,  il  faut  que  le  corps,  qui  les  fournit. 
soit  robuste  et  sain.  Ainsi,  loin  que  la  veritable  raison  de  I'hommc 
be  forme  ind^pendamment  du  corps,  c'est  la  bonne  constitution  du 
corps  qui  rend  les  operations  de  I'cspril  facilcs  et  sures. 

*  Exercer  les  sens  n'est  pas  seulement  en  faire  usage,  c'est  ap- 
l>rendre  a  bien  juger  par  eux;  c'est  apprendre,  pour  ainsi  dire,  a  sen- 
tWi  car  nous  ne  savons  ni  toucher,  ni  voir,  ni  entendre,  que  comme 
nous  avons  appris. 

II  y  a  un  exercice  purement  natureletm^icanique, qui sert Prendre 
ie  coi-ps  robuste  sans  donner  aucunc  prise.au  jugement:  nager, 
courir,  sauter,  fouetter  un  sabot,  lancer  des  pierres;  tout  cela  est 
fort  bivin  :  mais  n'avons-nous  que  des  bras  et  des  jambes?  n'avons- 
nous  pas  aussi  des  ycux,  des  oreilles?  et  ces  organes  sont-ils  super- 
flus  a  I'usage  des  premiers  ?  N'exerccz  done  pus  seulement  les  forces, 
exercez  tous  les  sens  qui  les  dirigent;  tirez  de  chacun  d'eux  tout  le 
parti  possible,  puis  verifiez  I'impression  de  I'un  par  I'autre,  Mes- 
urez,  comptez,  pesez,  comparez. 


MANNER    OF   SPEAKING.  II3 

According  to  the  present  system,  ''The  lessons 
which  school-boys  learn  of  each  other  in  pitying 
about  their  bounds,  are  a  hundred  times  more 
useful  to  them  than  all  those  which  the  master  teaches 
in  the  school."* 

He  also  suggests  experiments  in  the  dark,  which 
will  both  train  the  senses  and  get  over  the  child's 
dread  of  darkness.     '*Ad  assuclis  nonjit  -passio.^ 

£mile,  living  in  the  country  and  being  much  in 
the  open  air,  will  acquire  a  distinct  and  emphatic  way 
of  speaking.  He  will  also  avoid  a  fruitful  source  of 
bad  pronunciation  among  the  children  of  the  rich,  viz., 
saying  lessons  by  heart.  These  lessons  the  children 
gabble  when  they  are  learning  them,  and  afterward, 
in  their  efforts  to  remember  the  words,  they  drawl, 
and  give  all  kinds  of  false  emphasis.  Declamation  is 
to  be  shunned  as  acting.  If  £mile  does  not  understand 
anything,  he  will  be  too  wise  to  pretend  to  under- 
stand it. 

Rousseau  seems  perhaps  inconsistent,  in  not  ex- 
cluding music  and  drawing  from  his  curriculum  of 
ignorance  :  but  as  a  musician,  he  naturally  relaxed 
toward  the  former  ;t  and  drawing  he  would  have 
his  pupil  cultivate,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  art  itself, 
but  only  to  give  him  a  good  eye  and  supple  hand. 
He  should,  in  all  cases,  draw  from  the  objects  them- 
selves,   "  my  intention   being,   not  so  much  that   he 

*Les  le(;ons  que  les  ecoliers  prennent  entre  eux  dans  la  cour  ilu 
coiK'ge  leur  sont  cent  fois  plus  utiles  que  tout  ce  qu'on  lour  dira  "a- 
mais  dans  la  classe. 

fThc  followers  of  the  Tonic  Sol-Fa  System  have  in  Rousseau  a 
strong  ally  in  attacking  the  method  which  makes  Do  the  tonic  of 
the  natural  key  only. 

10 


114  Rousseau's  "  emile." 

should  know  how  to  imitate  the  objects,  as  to  become 
fully  acquainted  with  them." 

The  instruction  given  to  ordinary  school-boys,  was 
of  course  an  abomination  in  the  eyes  of  Rousseau, 
"All  the  studies  imposed  on  these  poor  unfortimates 
tend  to  such  objects  as  are  entirely  foreign  to  theii 
minds.  Judge,  then,  of  the  attention  they  are  likely 
to  bestow  on  them."  "  The  pedagogues,  who  make  a 
great  para'de  of  the  instructions  they  give  their 
scholars,  are  paid  to  talk  in  a  different  strain  :  one 
may  see  plainly,  however,  by  their  conduct,  that  they 
are  exactly  of  my  opinion  :  for,  after  all,  what  is  it- 
they  teach  them?  Words,  still  words,  and  nothing 
but  words.  Among  the  various  sciences  they  pretend 
to  teach,  they  take  particular  care  not  to  fall  upon 
those  which  are  really  useful ;  because  there  would 
be  the  sciences  of  things,  and  in  them  they  would 
never  succeed ;  but  they  fix  on  such  as  appe  ^r  to  be 
understood  when  their  terms  are  once  gotten  by  rote, 
viz-j, geography,  chronology,  heraldry,  the  lai  guages, 
etc.,  all  studies  so  foreign  to  the  purposes  of  rv.in,  and 
particularly  to  those  of  a  child,  that  it  is  a  wo*^der  if 
ever  he  may  have  occasion  for  them  as  long  s,s  he 
lives."*     **  In  any  study  whatever,  unless  we  posvess 

*  Or,  toutes  les  etudes  forcces  de  ces  pauvres  infortunes  tender*^  ' 
ces  objets  entiorement  etrangers  a  leurs  esprits.  Qu'on  j'lge  de  1'?! 
lention  qu'ils  y  peuvent  donner. 

Les  pedagogues  qui  nous  ctalent  en  grand  appareil  les  instructions 
q'l'ils  donnent  a  lours  disciples  sont  payes  pour  tenir  un  autre  lan- 
gagi;  :cependanton  volt,  par  leurpropre  conduite,  qu'ils  pensent  ex- 
actement  comme  moi.  Car  quo  Icur  apprcnnent-ils  enfin?  Des 
mots,  encore  des  mots,  et  toujours  des  mots.  Parmi  les  diverses 
sciences  qu'ils  se  vantent  de  leur  enscigner,  ils  se  gardent  bien  de 
dioisir  celles  qui  leur  seraient  veritablement  utiles,  parce  que  ce 


WRONG    SUnjECTS   TAUGHT.  II, 


the  ideas  of  the  things  represented,  the  signs  repre- 
senting them  are  of  no  use  or  consequence.  A  child 
,s,  nevertheless,  always  confined  to  tliese  signs,  with- 
'jul  our  being  capable  of  making  him  comprehend  any 
uf  the  things  which  they  represent."*  What  is  the 
world  to  a  child?  It  is  a  globe  of  pasteboard,  f  "As 
no  science  consists  in  the  knowledge  of  words,  so 
there  is  no  study  proper  for  children.  As  they  have 
no  certain  ideas,  so  they  have  no  real  memory  ;  for  I 
do  not  call  that  so  which  is  retentive  only  of  mere 
sensations.  What  signifies  imprinting  on  their 
minds  a  catalogue  of  signs  which  to  them  represent 
nothing?  Is  it  to  be  feared  that,  in  acquiring  the 
knowledge  of  things,  they  will  not  acquire  also  tha' 
uf  signs?  Why,  then,  shall  we  put  them  to  the 
unnecessary  trouble  of  learning  tiiem  twice?  And 
)et  what  dangerous  prejudices  do  w«  not  begin  to 
instill,  by  making  them  take  for  knowledge,  words 
which  to  them  are  without  meaning?  In  the  very 
first  unintelligible  sentence  with  which  a   child  sits 

seraicnt  des  sciences  de  choses,  et  qu'ils  n'y  reussiraient  pas :  maib 
cellcs  qii'on  parait  savoir  quand  on  en  sait  tcs  tcrmes,  le  blason,  la 
g.'ographie,  la  chronologic,  Ics  langues,  etc  ;  toutes  etudes  si  loin 
-ae  riiomine,  et  surtout  de  renlant,  que  c'est  une  merveille  si  rien  d«} 
tout  cela  lui  pcut  etre  utile  une  seule  ibis  en  sa  vie- 

*  En  quelque  etude  que  ce  puisse  etre,  sans  I'idce  des  choses  rtpi6 
sentces,  les  signes  representants  ne  sont  rien.  On  borne  pourlanl 
toujours  I'enfant  a  ces  signes,  sans  jamais  pouvoir  lui  faire  com- 
prendre  aucune  des  choses  qu'ils  reproscntent 

t  Rousseau,  like  his  pupil  Basedow,  would  avoid  the  use  even  of 
ropreser  tat  ions,  where  possible.  "  It  ought  to  be  laid  down  as  a 
general  rule,  never  to  substitute  the  shadow  unless  where  it  is  im- 
possible to  exhibit  the  substance;  for  the  representation  engrossins 
the  attention  of  the  child,  generally  makes  him  forget  the  objecf 
represented." 


ii6  Rousseau's  "  emile.' 


down  satisfied,  in  the  very  first  thing  he  takes  upon 
trust,  or  learns  from  others  without  being  himself 
convinced  of  its  utility,  he  loses  part  of  his  under- 
standing ;  and  he  may  figure  long  in  the  eyes  of  foola 
before  he  will  be  able  to  repair  so  considerable  a 
loss.  No ;  if  nature  has  given  to  the  child's  brain 
that  pliability  which  renders  it  fit  to  receive  all 
impressions,  it  is  not  with  a  view  that  we  should 
imprint  thereon  the  names  of  kings,  dates,  terms  of 
heraldry,  of  astronomy,  of  geography,  and  all  those 
words,  meaningless  at  his  a^e,  and  useless  at  any  age, 
with  which  we  weary  his  sad  and  sterile  childhood  ; 
but  that  all  the  ideas  which  he  can  conceive,  and  which 
are  useful  to  him,  all  those  which  relate  to  his  happi- 
ness, and  will  one  day  make  his  duty  plain  to  him, 
may  trace  themselves  there  in  characters  never  to  be 
efi'aced,  and  may  assist  him  in  conducting  himself 
through  life  in  a  manner  appropriate  to  his  nature 
and  his  faculties."  "  That  kind  of  memory  which  is 
possessed  by  children,  may  be  fully  employed  with- 
out setting  them  to  study  books.  Everything  they 
see,  or  hear,  appears  striking,  and  they  commit  it  to 
memory.  A  child  keeps  in  his  mind  a  register  of 
the  actions  and  conversation  of  those  who  are  about 
liim  ;  every  scene  he  is  engaged  in  is  a  book  from 
which  he  insensibl}'  enriches  his  memory,  treasuring 
up  his  store  till  time  shall  ripen  his  judgment  and 
turn  it  to  profit.  In  the  choice  of  these  scenes  and 
objects,  in  the  care  of  presenting  those  constantly  to 
his  view  which  he  ought  to  be  familiar  with,  and  in 
hiding  from  him  such  as  are  improper,  consists  the 
true  art  of  cultivating  this  priijiary  faculty  of  a  child. 
By  such  means,  also,  it  is,  that  we  should  endeavor 


WHAT  CHILDREN  SHOULD   BE   TAUGHT.         II7 


[o  form  that  magazine  of  knowledjje  which  should 
serve  for  his  education  in  youth,  and  to  regulate  his 
conduct  afterward.  This  method,  it  is  true,  is  not  pro- 
ductive of  little  prodigies  of  learning,  nor  does  it  tend 
to  the  glorification  of  the  governess  or  preceptor  :  hu 
it  is  the  way  to  form  robust  and  judicious  men,  per- 
sons sound  in  body  and  mind,  who,  without  being  ad- 
mired while  children,  know  how  to  make  themselves 
respected  when  grown  up."* 

♦  S'il  n'y  a  point  de  science  de  mots,  il  n'y  a  point  d'utude  propre 
aux  enfants.  S'ils  n'ont  pas  de  vraies  idees,  ils  n'ont  point  de  veritable 
memoire;  car  je  n'appelle  pas  ainsi  celle  que  ne  retiont  que  des  sen- 
sations. Qiie  sert  d'inscrire  dans  leur  tete  un  catalogue  de  signes 
qui  ne  representent  rien  pour  eux?  En  apprcnant  Ics  choses  n'ap- 
prendront-ils  pas  les  signes  ?  Pourquoi  leur  donner  la  peine  inutile  de 
les  apprendre  deux  Ibis?  Et  cependant  quels  dangereux  projug^s  ne 
cominence-t-on  pas  u  leur  inspirer,  en  ieurfaisant  prendre  pour  de 
la  science  des  mots  qui  n'ont  aucun  sens  pour  eux?  C'est  du  pre- 
mier mot  dont  I'enfant  se  paye,  c'est  de  la  premiere  chose  qu'il  ap- 
prend  sur  la  parole  d'autrui,  sans  en  voir  I'utilite  lui-mome,  que  son 
jugement  est  perdu  :  il  aura  longtemps  a  briller  aux  yeux  des  sots 
»vant  qu'il  ri-pare  une  telle  perte. 

Non,  si  la  nature  donne  au  cerveau  d'un  enfant  cette  souplesse  qui  le 
rend  propre  a  recevoir  toutes  sortes  d'impressions,  ce  n'est  pas  pour 
qu'on  y  grave  des  noms  de  rois,  des  dates,  des  termes  de  blason,  de 
sphere,  de  geographic,  et  tous  ces  mots  sans  aucun  sens  pour  son 
age  et  sans  aucune  utilit'  pour  quelque  age  que  ce  soit,  dont  on  ae- 
robic sa  triste  ct  sterile  enfance;  mais  c'est  pour  que  toules  les  id^ei 
qu'il  pent  concevoir  et  qui  lui  sont  utiles,  toutes  cc!'"*8  qui  se  rap 
portent  A  son  bonhcur  ct  doivent  I'eclairer  un  joui  si'T  «es  devoirs, 
s*y  tracent  de  bonne  heure  en  caracteres  ineffa/ables,  "^t  lui  eeiven 
a  se  conduire  pendant  sa  vie  d'une  maniere  convenablc  A  son  6tre  e 
il  ses  facultos. 

Sans  <5tudier  dans  les  livres,  I'espjce  de  moraoireque  p<..ui  avoii  un 
enfant  ne  reste  pas  pour  cela  oisive;  tout  ce  qu'il  voit,  toui  ce  qui 
entend  le  frappe,  ct  il  s'en  souvient:  il  tiont  registre  en  lui-meme 
des  actions,  des  discours  des  hommes;  et  tout  ce  qui  I'environncesl 
le  livre  dans  lequel,  sans  y  songer,  il  enrichit  continuellement  sa 
memoire,  en  attendant  que  son  jugement  puisse  en  profiter.     C'est 


ti8  Rousseau's  "  emile." 

As  for  reading  and  writing,  if  you  can  induce  a 
desire  for  them,  the  child  will  be  sure  to  learn  them. 
"I  am  almost  certain  that  Emile  will  know  perfectly 
well  how  to  read  and  write  before  he  is  ten  years  old, 
because  I  give  myself  very  little  trouble  whether  he 
learn  it  or  not  before  he  is  fifteen  ;  but  I  had  much 
rather  he  should  never  learn  to  read  at  all,  than  to 
acquire  that  knowledge  at  the  expense  of  everything 
that  would  render  it  useful  to  him  ;  and  of  what  ser- 
vice will  the  power  of  reading  be  to  him  when  he  has 
renounced  its  use  forever?*  'Id  in  primis  cavere  op- 
portebit,  ne  studia,  qui  amare  nondum  poterit,  oderit, 
et  amaritudinQm  semel  perceptam  etiam  ultra  rudes 
annus  reformidet."'t 

dans  Ic  choix  de  ces  objets,  c'est  dans  le  soin  de  lui  presenter  sans 
cesse  ceux  qu'il  peut  connaitre,  et  de  lui  cacher  ceux  qu'il  doit  ig- 
norer,  que  consiste  le  veritable  art  de  cultiver  en  lui  cette  premiere 
faculto;  et  c'est  par  la  qu'il  faut  tiicher  de  lui  former  un  magasin  de 
coniiaissancesqui  servent  h.  son  (Education  durant  sa  jeunesse,  et  a  sa 
conduite  dans  tous  les  temps.  Cette  methode,  il  est  vrai,  ne  forme 
point  de  petits  prodiges  et  ne  fait  pas  briller  les  gouvernantes  et  les 
prdcepteurs;  mais  elle  forme  des  hommes  judicieux,  robuste,  sains 
de  corps  et  d'entendement,  qui,  sans  s'etre  fait  admirer  etant  jeunes, 
se  font  honorer  etant  grands. 

*  Je  suis  presque  sur  qu'Emile  saura  parfaitement  lire  et  4crire 
avant  I'age  de  dix  ans  precisement  parce  qu'il  m'importe  fort  peu  qu'il 
Je  sache  avant  quinze ;  iruxis  j'aimerais  mieux  qu'il  ne  siit  jamais  lire, 
que  d'acheter  cette  science  au  prix  de  tout  ce  qui  peut  la  rendre  utile  : 
de  quoi  lui  servira  la  lecture  quand  on  Ten  aura  rebute  pour  jamais  I 

t  Qiiintil.  lib.  i.  cap.  i,  §  18.  Thecontext,however,  may  be  quoted 
by  Rousseau's  opponents.  Qiiintilian  is  urging  the  expediency  of 
giving  young  children  (indeed  children  below  seven)  literary  in- 
struction. "  Nam  certe  quamlibet  parvuni  sit,  quod  contulerit  aetas 
prior,  majora  tamen  aliqua  discet  puer  eo  ipso  anno  quo  m'nora 
diiiicissct."  After  dwelling  on  the  evil  of  beginning  too  late,  lie 
goes  on  :  "  Non  ergo  perdamus  primum  statim  tempus,  atque  eo 
minus  quod  initia  literarum  sola  memrtria  constant,  qux  non  moi'o 


ATTKNTIOW  TO  BE  FIXED  ON  WHAT  IS  NEAR.      II9 

The  following  passage  is  perhaps  familiar  to  Mr. 
Lowe:  "If,  proceeding  on  the  plan  I  have  begun  to 
delineate,  you  follow  rules  directly  contrary  to  those 
which  are  generally  received  ;  if,  instead  of  transport- 
ing your  pupil's  mind  to  what  is  remote — if,  instead 
of  making  his  thoughts  wander  unceasingly  in  other 
places,  in  other  climates,  in  other  centuries,  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  and  to  the  very  heavens,  you  apply 
yourself  to  keeping  him  always  at  home  and  attentive 
to  that  which  comes  in  immediate  contact  with  him, 
you  will  Ihen  find  him  capable  of  perception,  of 
memory,  and  even  of  reason  :  this  is  the  order  of  na- 
ture. In  proportion  as  the  sensitive  becomes  an  active 
being,  he  acquires  a  discernment  proportional  to  his 
bodily  powers ;  when  he  possesses  more  of  the  latter, 
also,  than  are  necessary  for  his  preservation,  it  is  with 
that  redundancy,  and  not  before,  that  he  displays 
those  speculative  faculties  which  are  adapted  to  the 
employment  of  such  abilities  to  other  purposes.  Are 
you  desirous,  therefore,  to  cultivate  the  understanding 
of  your  pupil  ?  cultivate  those  abilities  on  which  it  de- 
pends. Keep  him  in  constant  exercise  of  body ; 
bring  him  up  robust  and  healthy,  in  order  to  make 
him  reasonable  and  wise;  let  him  work,  let  him  run 
about,  let  him  make  a  noise,  in  a  word,  let  him  be 
always  active  and  in  motion  ;  let  him  be  once  a  man 
in  vigor,  and  he  will  soon  be  a  man  in  understanding."* 

jam  est  in  parvis  sed  turn  etiam  tenacissima  est.  Nee  sum  adeo 
ctatum  impruJens  ut  instandum  teneris  protinus  acerbe  putem,  ex- 
igendamque  plenam  operam ;  nam  id  imprimis  cnvere,"  etc. 

*  Si  sur  le  plan  que  j'ai  commence  de  tracer  vous  suivez  des  regies 
direclemcnt  contraircs  a  cclles  qui  sont  (jtablies;  si,  au  lieu  dc  portei 
au  loin  I'esprit  de  votre  elove;  si,  au  lieu  de  lV;gari'i  sans  cesse  cd 
d'autres  lieux,  en  d'autres  climats,  en  d'autres  siocles,  aux  extrcmi- 


t20  ROUSSEAU'S    "  EMILE*" 


Let  us  now  examine  what  provision  was  made,  in 
Rousseau's  system,  for  teaching  the  one  science  for 
children,  that  of  moral  behavior  (des  devoirs  de 
I'hoinme).  His  notions  of  this  science  were  by  no 
means  those  to  which  we  are  accustomed.  As  a  b;> 
liever  in  the  goodness  of  human  nature,  he  traced  all 
folly,  vanity,  and  vice  to  ordinary  education,  and  he 
would  therefore  depart  as  widely  as  possible  from  the 
usual  course.  "Examine  the  rules  of  the  common 
method  of  education,"  he  writes,  *'and  you  will  find 
them  all  wrong,  particularly  those  which  relate  to 
virtue  and  manners."* 

A  simple  alteration  of  method,  however,  would  not 
suffice.  Rousseau  went  further  than  this.  He  dis- 
carded all  received  notions  of  goodness,  and  set  up 
one  of  his  own  in  their  stead.  "The  only  lesson  of 
morality  proper  for  children,  and  the  most  important 
to  persons  of  all  ages,  is  never  to  do  an  injury  to  any 
one.  Even  the  positive  precept  of  doing  good,  if  not 
made  subordinate  to  this,  is  dangerous,  false,  and  con- 

tes  de  la  lerre,  et  jusque  dans  les  cieux,  vous  vous  appliquez  &  la  tenir 
toujours  en  lui-meine,  et  attentit  a  cequele  touche  immediatement; 
alors  vous  'e  trouverez  capable  de  perception,  de  memoire,  et  ineme 
do  raisonnemcnl ;  c'est  I'ordre  de  la  nature.  A  mesure  que  I'etre  sen- 
sitif  de/icnt  actif,  il  acquiert  un  discernement  proportionnel  a  ses 
forces;  et  cc  n'est  qu'avec  la  force  surabondante  a  celle  dont  il  a  be- 
soin  pour  sa  conserver,  que  se  deve'.oppe  en  lui  la  faculte  speculative 
propre  A  employer  cet  exces  de  forces  a  d'autres  usages.  Voulez- 
vons  done  cultiver  I'intelligence  de  votre6leve;  cultivez  les  forces 
iju'elle  doit  gouvcrncr.  Exercez  continuellement  son  corps;  rendez- 
!e  robuste  et  sain,  pour  le  rendre  sage  et  raisonnable ;  qu'il  travaille, 
agisse,  qu'il  coure,  qu'il  crie,  qu'il  soit  toujours  en  mouvement;  qu'il 
6oit  liomme  par  la  vigueur,  et  bientfit  il  le  sera  par  la  raison. 

*  Approfondissez  toutes  les  rdgles  de  votre  Education,  vous  les 
Irouverez  ainsi  toutes  a  contre-sens.  surtout  en  ce  qui  concerne  lea 
»er*u6  et  les  mceurs. 


VIR    BONUS    EST   QyiS.  121 

tradictory.     Who  is  there  tliat  does  not  do  good?     All 
the   world    does    good,  the   wicked    man    as   well   as 
others :  he  makes  one  person  happy  at  the  expense  of 
making  a   hundred    miserable  ;    hence   arise   all    our 
calamities.     The  most  sublime  virtues  are  negative 
they  are   also  the   most   ditFicult   to   put  in   practice 
because  they  are  attended  with  no  ostentation,  and  are 
even  above  the  pleasure,  so  sweet  to  the  heart  of  man, 
of  sending  away  others  satisfied  with  our  benevolence. 
O  how  much  good  must  tliat  man  necessarily  do  his 
fellow-creatures,  if  such  a  man  there  be,  who  never 
did  any  of  them    harm  I     What  intrepidity  of  soul, 
what  constancy  of  mind  are    necessary  here  I     It  is 
not,  however,  by  reasoning  on  this  maxim,  but  by  en- 
deavoring to  put  it  in  practice,  that  all  its  difficulty  is 
to  be  discovered."     "Tlie  precept  of  never  doing  an- 
other harm,  implies  that  of  having  as  little  to  do  as 
possible  with  human  society  ;  for  in  the  social  state  the 
good  of  one  man  necessarily  becomes  the  evil  of  an- 
other.    This  relation  is   essential  to  the  thing  itself, 
and  can  not  be  changed.     We  may  inquire,  on  this 
principle,  which  is  best,  man  in  a  state  of  society  oi 
in  a  state  of  solitude?"     "A  certain  noble  author  has 
said,  none  but  a  wicked   man  might  exist  alone :  for 
my  part,   I  sa3',   none  but  a  good   man   might  exist 
alone."* 

*  La  seulc  Ie(,'on  de  morale  qui  convienne  h  I'enfance,  et  la  plua 
iinportante  a  tout  age,  est  de  ne  jamais  faire  de  mal  k  personne.  Lc 
preceptc  mi'mc  de  faire  du  bien,  s'il  n'est  subordonno  a  celui-la,  est 
dangercux,  faux,  coutradictoiie.  Qiii  est-ce  qui  ne  fait  pas  tlu  bien? 
Toutle  monde  en  fait,  lc  mi'chant  commc  les  autres;  il  fait  un 
heu^eux  aux  dopens  decent  misJrables;  et  de  li  viennent  toutes  nos 
calamites.  Lcs  plus  sublimes  vertus  sont  negatives:  clics  sont 
aussi  les  plus  diflicilcs,   parce  qu'elles   sont   sans  ostentation,   el 


122  ROUSSEAU'S    "  EMILE. 


This  passage  fully  explains  Rousseau's  enthusiasm 
for  Robinson  Crusoe,  for  he  must  have  regarded  him 
as  the  best  and  most  beneficent  of  mortals.  "  Happy 
are  the  people  among  whom  goodness  requiies  no 
self-denial,  and  men  may  be  just  without  virtue."* 
And  the  fortunate  solitary  had  one-half  of  goodness 
ready  made  for  him.  "That  which  renders  man  es- 
sentially good,  is  to  have  few  wants,  and  seldom  to 
compare  himself  with  others ;  that  which  renders  him 
essentially  wicked,  is  to  have  many  wants,  and  to  be 
frequently  governed  by  opinion. "f  Rousseau,  how- 
ever, did  not  vaunt  the  merits  of  negation  with  abso- 
lute consistency.  Elsewhere  he  says,  "He  who 
wants  nothing  will  love  nothing,  and  I  can  not  con- 
ceive that  he  who  loves  nothing  can  be  happy. "J 

au-dessus  meme  de  ce  plaisir  si  doux  au  coeur  de  Thomme,  d'en 
renvojer  un  autre  content  de  nous.  O  quel  bien  fait  necessaire- 
ment  a  ses  semblables  celui  d'entre  eux,  s'il  en  est  un,  qui  ne 
leur  fait  jamais  de  mal !  De  quelle  intrcpidite  d'ame,  de  quelle 
vigueur  de  caractere  il  a  besoin  pour  cela  I  Ce  n'est  pas  en  raison- 
nant  sur  cette  maxime,  c'est  en  tachant  de  la  pratiquer,  qu'on  sent 
combien  il  est  grand  et  pinible  d'y  roussir. 

Le  pr^cepte  de  ne  jamais  nuire  h  autrui  emporte  celui  de  tenir  k 
la  soci^t6  humaine  le  moins  qu'il  est  possible;  car,  dans  I'dtat  social, 
le  bien  de  I'un  fait  n&;essairement  le  mal  de  I'autre.  Ce  rapport  est 
dans  I'essence  de  la  chose,  et  rien  ne  saurait  le  changer.  Qu'on 
cherche  sur  ce  principe  lequel  est  le  meilleur  de  I'homme  social  ou  du 
solitaire. 

*  Heureux  les  peuples  chez  lesquels  on  pent  etre  bon  sans  effort  et 
juste  sans  vertu ! 

t  Air.si,  ce  qui  rend  I'homme  essentiellement  bon  est  d'avoir  peu 
de  besoins,  et  de  peu  se  comparer  aux  autres;  ce  qui  le  rend  essen- 
tiellement mediant  est  d'avoir  beaucoup  de  besoins,  et  detenirbeau- 
coup  i'opinion. 

+  Je  ne  con9ois  pas  que  celui  qui  n'a  besoin  de  rien  puisse  aimer 
quelque  chos^  :  je  ne  consols  pas  que  celui  qui  n'aime  rien  puisse 
6tre  heureux. 


LIBERTY    A  LA  KOUSSKAU.  1 23 


As  Rousseau  found  the  root  of  all  evil  in  the  action 
of  man  upon  man,  he  sought  to  dissever  his  child  of 
nature  as  much  as  possible  from  Iiis  fellow-creatures, 
and  to  assimilate  him  to  Robinson  Crusoe.  Anything 
like  rule  and  obedience  was  abomination  to  Rousseau, 
and  he  confounds  the  wise  rule  of  superior  intelligence 
with  the  tyranny  of  mere  caprice.  He  writes  :  "We 
always  either  do  that  which  is  pleasing  to  the  child, 
or  exact  of  him  what  pleases  ourselve?  ;  either  sub- 
mitting to  his  humors  or  obliging  him  to  submit  to 
ours.  There  is  no  medium,  he  must  either  give  orders 
or  receive  them.  Hence  the  first  ideas  it  acquires  are 
those  of  absolute  rule  and  servitude."*  The  great 
panacea  for  all  evils  was,  then,  "liberty,"  by  which 
Rousseau  understood  independence.  "He  only  per- 
forms the  actions  of  his  own  will,  wiio  stands  in  no 
need  of  the  assistance  of  others  to  put -his  designs  in 
execution  :  and  hence  it  follows  that  the  greatest  of  all 
blessings  is  not  authority,  but  liberty.  A  man,  truly 
free,  wills  only  that  which  he  can  do,  and  does  only 
that  which  plea  es  him.  This  is  my  fundamental 
maxim.  It  need  only  be  applied  to  childhood,  and 
all  the  rules  of  education  will  naturally  flow  from  it."-f 

*  Ou  nous  faisons  ce  qu'il  lui  plait,  ou  nous  en  exigeons  ce  qu'il 
nous  plait;  ou  nous  nous  soumettons  a  ses  iantait>ie6,ou  nous  le  so-i- 
nictton;!  aux  n.  trcs  :  point  de  milieu,  il  faut  qu'il  donne  des  orJros 
ou  qu'il  en  recjoive.  Ainsi  ses  premieres  idees  sont  cclles  d'enifiire 
el  de  seivitude. 

t  Le  seui  qui  fait  sa  volonte  est  celui  qui  n'a  pas  besoin,  pom  la 
("aire,  de  mtttre  les  bras  d'un  autre  au  bout  des  siens :  d'ou  il  sui» 
quo  le  premier  de  tons  les  biens  n'est  pas  I'autoritc,  mais  la  libcrto 
l,"i?omme  vraiment  librc  nc  veut  que  ce  qu'il  pcut,  et  fait  ce  qu'il  lui 
|)luit.  Voila  ma  maxime  fondamentale.  II  ne  s'agit  que  de  Tap- 
pliqucr  u  I'enfance,  et  toutes  les  ruglcs  de  Teducation  vont  en  dt> 
couler. 


124.  Rousseau's  "  emile." 

"  Whosoever  does  what  he  will  is  happy,  provided 
he  is  capable  of  doing  it  himself;  this  is  the  case  with 
man  in  a  state  of  nature."* 

But  a  very  obvious  difficulty  suggests  itself.  A 
child  is  necessarily  the  most  dependent  creature  in 
the  world.  How,  then,  can  he  be  brought  up  in  what 
Rousseau  calls  liberty  ?  Rousseau  sees  this  difficulty, 
and  all  he  can  say  is,  that  as  real  liberty  is  impossible 
for  a  child,  you  must  give  him  sham  liberty  instead. 
"Let  him  always  be  his  own  master  in  appearance, 
and  do  you  take  care  to  be  so  in  reality.  There  is  no 
subjection  so  complete  as  that  which  preserves  the 
appearance  of  liberty  ;  it  is  by  this  means  even  the 
will  itself  is  led  captive.  The  poor  child,  who  knows 
nothing,  who  is  capable  of  nothing,  is  surely  suffi- 
ciently at  your  mercy.  Don't  you  dispose,  with  re- 
gard to  him,  of  everything  about  him?  Are  not  you 
capable  of  affecting  him  just  as  you  please  ?  His 
employment,  his  sports,  his  pleasures,  his  pains,  are 
they  not  all  in  your  power,  without  his  knowing  it'r 
Assuredly,  he  ought  not  to  be  compelled  to  do  any- 
thing contrary  to  his  inclinations ;  but  then  he  ought 
not  to  be  inclined  to  do  anything  contrary  to  yours  : 
he  ought  not  to  take  a  step  which  you  had  not  fore- 
seen ;  nor  open  his  lips  to  speak  without  your  know- 
ing what  he  is  about  to  say.  When  you  have  once 
brought  him  under  such  regulations,  you  may  in- 
dulge him  freely  in  all  those  corporeal  exercises  which 
his  age  requires,  without  running  the  hazard  ol 
blunting  his  intellects.  You  will  then  see,  that  in- 
stead of  employing  all  h  s  subtle  arts  to  shake  off  n 

*  Qiiiconque  fail  ce  qu'il  veut  est  heureux,  s'il  se  suffit  ii  lui-moiiii; 
c'est  le  cas  de  rhonime  vivant  dans  l'6t,at  de  nature. 


LIBERT V    A  LA  ROUSSEAU.  1 25 

burdensome  and  disagreeable  tyranny,  he  will  be 
busied  only  in  making  the  best  use  of  everything 
about  him.  It  s  in  this  case  you  will  have  reason 
to  be  surprised  at  the  sublility  of  his  invention,  and 
tlie  ingenuity  with  which  he  makes  everytliing  thai 
is  in  his  power  contribute  to  his  gratification,  with- 
out being  obliged  to  prepossession  or  opinion.  In 
thus  leaving  liim  at  liberty  to  follow  his  own  will,  you 
will  not  augment  his  caprice.  By  being  accustomed 
only  to  do  that  which  is  proper  for  his  state  and  condi- 
tion he  will  soon  do  nothing  but  what  he  ought ;  and 
though  he  should  be  in  continual  motion  of  body, 
yet,  while  he  is  employed  only  in  the  pursuit  of  his 
present  and  apparent  interest,  you  will  find  his 
reasoning  faculties  display  themselves  better,  and  in 
a  manner  more  peculiar  to  himself,  than  if  he  was 
engaged  m  studies  of  pure  speculation."* 

*  Prenez  une  route  opposee  avec  votre  elfeve;  qu'il  croie  toujours 
etre  le  maitre,  et  que  ce  soil  toujours  vous  qui  le  soyez.  11  n'y  a 
point  d'a^sujettisscinent  si  parfait  que  celui  qui  garde  I'apparence  de 
la  liberie;  on  captive  ainsi  a  volonte  meme  Le  pauvre  enfant  qui  ne 
salt  rien,  qui  ne  peut  rien,  qui  ne  connait  rien,  n'est-il  pas  a  votre 
incrci?  Ne  disposez-vous  pas,  par  rapport  a  lui,  de  lout  ce  qui  I'en- 
vironne?  N'^tes-vous  pas  le  maitre  de  raffectercomme  il  vous  plait? 
Ses  travaux,  ses  jeux,  ses  plaisirs,  ses  peines,  tout  n'est-il  pas  dans 
vos  mains  sans  qu'il  le  sache?  Sans  doute,  il  ne  doit  faire  que  ce 
qu'il  veut";  mais  il  ne  doit  vouloir  que  ce  que  vous  voulez  qu'il  fasse; 
il  ne  doit  pas  faire  un  pas  que  vous  ne  Vayez  prevu,  il  ne  doit  pas 
ouvrir  la  bouche  que  vous  ne  sachiez  ce  qu'il  va  dire.  C'est  alors 
qu'il  pourra  se  livrer  aux  exercices  du  corps  que  lui  demande  son 
age,  sans  abrutir  son  esprit;  c'est  alors  qu'au  lieu  d'aiguiser  sa  ruse 
n  eiuder  un  incommode  empire,  vous  le  verrez  s'occuper  unique- 
ment  a  tirer  de  tout  ce  qui  I'environne  le  parti  le  plus  avantageux 
pour  son  bien-etre  actuel ;  c'est  alors  que  vous  screz  ctonno  de  la 
Bubtilite  de  ses  inventions  pour  s'approprier  tons  les  objets  auxquels 
•I  peut  attaindre,  et  pour  joulr  viaiment  des  clioses  sans  le  secours 
de  I'opinion.     En  le  laissant  ainsi  maitre  de  ses  volontes,  vous  te 


126  Rousseau's  "  emile." 

After  this  astonishing  passage,  the  reader  will 
probably  consider  Rousseau's  opinions  of  moral  be- 
havior mere  matters  of  curiosity.  Yet  some  of  his 
advice  is  well  woith  considering. 

Although  children  should  be  made  happy,  they 
should  by  no  means  be  shielded  from  every  pos  ible 
hurt.  "  The  first  thing  we  ought  to  learn,  and  thai 
which  it  is  of  the  greatest  consequence  for  us  to  know, 
is  to  suffer.  It  seems  as  if  children  were  formed 
little  and  feeble  to  learn  this  important  lesson  with- 
out danger."*  "  Excessive  severity,  as  well  as  exces- 
sive indulgence,  should  be  equally  avoided.  If  you 
leave  children  to  suffer,  you  expose  their  health,  en- 
danger their  lives,  and  make  them  actually  miserable  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  if  you  are  too  anxious  to  preven'. 
their  being  sensible  of  any  kind  of  pain  and  incon- 
venience, you  only  pave  their  way  to  feel  much 
greater ;  you  enervate  their  constitutions,  make  them 
tender  and  effeminate  ;  in  a  word,  you  remove  ti;em 
out  of  their  situation  as  human  beings,  into  which 
they  must  heieafter  return  in  spite  of  all  3'our  so- 
licitude."! 

fomentez  point  ses  caprices.  En  ne  faisant  jamais  que  ce  qui  lui 
convient,  il  ne  fera  bientot  que  ce  qu'il  doit  faire;  et,  bien  que  son 
corps  soit  dans  un  mouvement  continuel,  tant  qu'il  s'agira  de  son 
inlorct  present  et  sensible,  vous  verrez  toute  la  raison  dont  il  est 
capable  sc  developper  beaucoup  mieux  et  d'une  manicre  beauconp 
plu5  appropriee  ;\  lui,  que  dans  des  etudes  de  pure  speculation. 

♦  Souffrir  est  la  premiere  chose  qu'il  doit  apprendre,  et  celle  qu'il 
aura  le  plus  grand  besoin  de  savoir.  II  semble  que  les  enfants  ne 
soient  petits  et  faibles  que  pour  prendre  ces  importantesle(;on8  sans 
danger. 

t  II  y  a  un  exces  de  rigueur  et  un  exces  d'indulgence,  tons  deux 
egalement  a  eviter.  Si  vous  laissez  patir  les  enfants,  vous  expo^ea 
Icur  sante,  leur  vie;    vous  les  rendez  actuellement  m-'orables'  ^i 


FIRMNESS.  127 


His  advice  on  firmness  is  also  good.  "  When 
llie  child  desires  what  is  necessary,  you  juglit  to 
know  and  immediately  comply  with  its  request : 
but  *.o  be  induced  to  do  anything  by  its  tears,  is  to 
enci/urage  it  to  cry ;  it  is  to  teach  it  to  doubt  youi 
go  jd-\vill,  and  to  think  you  are  influenced  more  by 
importunity  than  benevolence.  Beware  of  this,  foi 
if  your  child  once  comes  to  imagine  you  are  not  of  a 
good  disposition,  he  will  soon  be  of  a  bad  one  ;  if  he 
once  thinks  you  complain,  he  will  soon  grow  obsti- 
nate. You  should  comply  with  his  request  immedi- 
ately if  you  do  not  intend  to  refuse  it.  Mortify  him 
not  with  frequent  denials,  but  never  revoke  a  refusal 
once  made  him."*  Caprice,  whether  of  the  governor 
or  of  the  child,  is  carclully  to  be  shunned. 

"  There  is  an  innate  sense  of  right  and  wrong  im- 
planted in  the  human  heart."  In  proof  of  this,  he 
gives  an  anecdote  of  an  infant  who  almost  screamed 
to  death  on  receiving  a  blow  from  the  nurse.  "  I  am 
very  certain,"  he  says,  "  had  a  burning  coal  fallen  by 
accident  on  the  hand  of  the  child,  it  would  have  been 

wjus  leur  ^pargnez  avec  trop  de  soin  toute  espece  de  mal-ctre,  vous  leur 
pr^parez  de  grandes  miscres,  vous  les  rendez  ddlicats,  sensibles ;  voiii 
les  sortez  de  lerretat  d'hommes,  dans  lequel  ils  rentreront  un  jour 
DUtlgr6  vous. 

*  Si  le  besoiu  I'afait  parler,  vous  deyez  le  savoir,  etfaire  a  issitotoQ 
qu'il  dcmande ;  mais  coder  quclque  chose  i  scs  larrnes,  c'est  I'exciter 
ft  en  verser,  c'est  lui  apprcndrc  a  douter  de  voire  bonne  volonto,  et  i 
croire  que  I'importunite  peut  plus  sur  vous  que  la  bienveillaiice 
S'i  ne  vous  croit  pas  bon,  bientot  il  sera  mechant :  s'il  vous  croit 
faible,  il  sera  bientot  opiniutre:  il  iinporte  d'accorder  toajpurs  au 
premier  signe  ce  qu'on  ne  veut  pas  refuser.  Ne  soyez  point  prodigue 
en  lefus,  mais  ne  les  r6voquez  jamais. 


128  Rousseau's  "  emile." 

less  agitated  than  by  this  slight  blow,  given  with  a 
manifest  intention  to  hurt  it."* 

For  punishments  he  gives  a.  hint  which  has  been 
worked  out  by  Mr.  H.  Spencer.  *'  Oppose  to  his  in- 
discreet desires  only  physical  obstacles,  or  the  incon- 
veniences naturally  arising  from  the  actions  them- 
selves; these  he  will  remember  on  a  future  occasion."! 

Even  in  the  matter  of  liberty,  about  which  no 
one  disagrees  more  heartily  with  Rousseau  than  I  do, 
we  may,  I  think,  learn  a  lesson  from  him.  *'  £mile 
acts  from  his  own  thoughts,  and  not  from  the  dictation 
of  others."  "  If  your  head  always  directs  your  pupil's 
hands,  his  own  head  will  become  useless  to  him. "J 
There  is  a  great  truth  in  this.  While  differing  so  far 
from  Rousseau,  that  I  should  require  the  most  implicit 
obedience  from  boys,  I  feel  that  we  must  give 
them  a  certain  amount  of  independent  action  and 
freedom  from  restraint,  as  a  means  of  education.  In 
many  of  our  private  schools,  a  boy  is  hardly  called 
upon  to  exercise  his  will  all  day  long.  He  rises  in 
the  morning  when  he  must ;  at  meals,  he  eats  till  he 
]■&  obliged  to  stop ;  he  is  taken  out  for  exercise  like 
a  horse ;  he  has  all  his  indoor  work  prescribed  for 
him,  both  as  to  time  and  quantity.     "  Vous  I'accou- 

*  Quand  j'aurais  doute  que  le  sentiment  du  juste  et  de  I'injuste  fi^t 
inne  dans  le  coeur  de  I'homme,  cet  exemple  seul  m'aurait  convaincu. 
(e  suis  sur  qu'un  tison  ardent  tombo  par  hasard  sur  la  main  de  cet 
enfant  lui  eiJt  etc  moin  sensible  que  ce  coup  assez  leger,  mais  donn^ 
(liins  I'intention  manifeste  de  I'ofFenser. 

t  N'ofTrez  jamais  £l  ses  volontes  indiscretes  que  des  obstacles  phy- 
siques bu  des  punitions  qui  naissent  des  actions  memes,  et  qu'il  se 
inppelle  dans  I'occasion. 

X  Si  vctre  tete  conduit  toujours  ses  bras,  la  sienne  lui  devient 
inutile. 


THE   CHANGE   AT   TWELVE    VEARS    OLD.         1 29 

tv.mez  a  se  laisser  toujours  conduire,  a  n'elre  jamais 
qu'une  machine  entre  les  mains  d'autrui."  As  Mon- 
taigne quotes  from  Seneca,  '•  nunquam  tulelae  suae 
fiunt."  Thus  a  boy  grows  up  without  having  any 
occasion  to  think  or  act  for  liimself.  He  is  therefore 
without  self  reliance.  So  much  care  is  taken  to  prevent 
his  doing  wrong,  that  he  gets  to  think  onl}'^  of  checks 
Irom  without.  He  is  therefore  incapable  of  self- 
restraint.  Our  public  schools  give  more  "  liberty," 
and  turn  out  better  vicn. 

We  will  now  suppose  the  child  to  have  reached  the 
age  of  twelve,  a  proficient  in  ignorance.  His  educa- 
tion must,  at  this  period,  alter  entirely.  The  age 
for  learning  has  arrived.  "  Give  me  a  child  of  twelve 
years  of  age  who  knows  nothing  at  all,  and  at 
fifteen  I  will  return  him  to  you  as  learned  as  any 
that  you  may  have  instructed  eajlier ;  with  this 
difference,  that  the  knowledge  of  yours  will  be  only 
in  his  memory,  and  that  of  mine  will  be  in  his 
judgment."*  "To  what  use  is  it  proper  a  child 
should  put  that  redundancy  of  abilities,  of  which  he 
is  at  present  possessed,  and  which  will  fail  him  at 
another  age  ?  He  should  employ  it  on  those  things 
;vhich  may  be  of  utility  in  time  to  come.  He  should 
throw,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  the  superfluity  of 
his  present  being  into  the  future.  The  robust  child 
should  provide  for  the  subsistence  of  the  feeble  man  ; 
not  in  laying  up  his  treasure  in  coflTers  whence  thieves 

*  Donnez-moi  un  enfant  de  douze  ans  qui.ne  sache  rien  du  tout,  i 
quinze  ans  je  dois  vous  le  rendre  aussi  savant  que  celui  que  vous 
avez  nstruit  dis  le  premier  age;  avec  la  difference  que  le  savoir  du 
votre  nc  sera  que  dans  sa  m^moirc,  et  que  celui  du  mien  sera  dam 
•on  jugenicnt. 


/ 


130  Rousseau's  *'emile." 

may  steal,  nor  by  intrusting  it  to  the  hands  of  others ; 
bu^  by  keeping  it  in  his  own.  To  appropriate  his  ac- 
quisitions to  himself  he  will  secure  them  in  the  strength 
and  dexterity  of  his  own  arms,  and  in  the  capacity  of 
his  own  head.  This,  therefore,  is  the  time  for  em- 
ployment, for  instruction,  for  study.  Observe,  also, 
that  I  have  not  arbitrarily  fixed  on  this  period  for  that 
puipose  :  nature  itself  plainly  points  il  out  to  us."* 

The  education  of  £mile  was  to  be,  to  use  the  lan- 
guage of  the  present  day,  scientific,  not  literary. 
Rousseau  professed  a  haired  of  books,  which  he  said 
kept  the  student  so  long  engaged  upon  the  thoughts 
of  other  people  as  to  have  no  time  to  make  a  store 
of  his  own.  "  The  abuse  of  reading  is  destructive 
to  knowledge.  Imagining  ourselves  to  know  every- 
thing we  read,  we  conceive  it  unnecessary  to  learn 
it  by  other  means.  Too  much  reading,  however, 
serves  only  to  make  us  presumptuous  blockheads. 
Of  all  the  ages  in  which  literature  has  flourished, 
reading  was  never  so  universal  as  in  the  present,  nor 
were  men  in  general  ever  so  ignorant.''^ 

*  Que  fera-t-il  done  de  cet  exccdant  de  facultos  et  de  forces  qu'il  a 
de  trop  a  present,  et  qui  lui  manquera  dans  un  autre  age?  II  tiichera 
de  I'employer  a  des  soins  qui  lui  puissent  profiter  au  besoin  ;  il  jet- 
tera,  pour  ainsi  dire,  dans  I'avenir  le  superflu  de  son  etre  actuci; 
I'enfant  robuste  fera  des  provisions  pour  I'homme  faible ;  mats  il 
n'etablira  ses  magasins  ni  dans  des  coifres  qu'on  peut  lui  voler,  ni 
dans  des  granges  qui  lui  sout  etrangdres;  pour  s'approprier  v^ri- 
tablcment  son  acquis,  c'est  dans  ses  bras,  dans  sa  tote,  c'cst  dans  lui 
qu'il  le  logera.  Voici  done  le  temps  des  travaux,  des  instructions,  des 
€tudc  ; :  et  remarquez  que  ce  n'est  pas  moi  qui  fais  arbitrairement  ce 
choix,  c'est  la  nature  eile-meme  qui  I'indique. 

t  L'abus  des  livres  tue  la  science.  Croyant  savoir  ce  g-»'on  a  lu, 
on  se  croit  dispense  de  I'apprendre.    Trop  de  lecture  ne  ««r*  <r|i«'ji 


CULTIVATION   OF  JUDGMENT.  131 


Even  science  was  to  be  studied,  not  so  much  with  a 
view  to  knowledge,  as  to  intellectual  vigor.  "You 
will  remember  it  is  my  constant  maxim,  not  to  teach 
the  boy  a  multiplicity  of  things,  but  to  prevent  his 
acquiring  any  but  clear  and  precise  ideas.  His  know- 
ing nothing  does  not  much  concern  me,  provided  he 
does  not  deceive  himself."* 

Again  he  says  :  "  £mile  has  but  little  knowledge; 
but  what  he  has  is  truly  his  own  ;  he  knows  nothing 
by  halves.  Among  the  few  things  he  knows,  and 
knows  ivcll^  the  most  important  is,  that  there  are  many 
things  which  he  is-  now  ignorant  of,  and  which  he 
may  one  day  know ;  that  there  are  many  more  which 
some  men  know  and  he  never  will ;  and  that  there  is 
an  inlinily  of  others  which  neither  he  nor  anybody  else 
will  ever  know.  He  possesses  a  universal  capacity, 
not  in  point  of  actual  knowledge,  but  in  the  faculty 

faire  de  prosomptueux  ignorants.  De  tous  les  si^cles  de  literature  il 
n'y  en  a  point  eu  oil  Ton  lut  tant  que  dans  celui-ci,  et  point  011  I'on 
fiit  inoins  savant. 

*  Souvonez-vous  toujours  que  I'esprit  de  men  institution  n'est  pas 
d'enseigner  a  I'enfant  beaucoup  dc  choses,  inais  de  ne  laisser  jamais 
entrer  dans  son  cerveau  que  des  idoes  justes  ct  claires.  Quand  il 
ne  saurait  rien,  peu  m'importe,  pourvu  qu'il  ne  se  trompe  pas;  ct 
je  ne  mets  des  v^rites  dans  sa  tote  que  pour  le  parantir  des  erreufK 
qu'il  apprendrait  a  leur  place.  La  raison,  le  jugement  viennent 
Icntcment,  les  projuges  accourent  en  foulc,  c'est  d'eux  qu'il  le  faul 
preserver.  Mais  si  vous  regardez  la  science  en  elle-mcme,  vous  en- 
trez  dans  uiie  mer  sans  fond,  sans  rive,  toute  pleine  d'ecueils;  vous 
nc  vous  en  tirerez  jamais.  Quand  je  vois  un  homme  I'pris  dc 
I'amour  des  connaissances  se  laisser  scduire  a  leurcharme  et  courir 
de  I'une  a  I'autre  sans  savoir  s'arroter,  jo  crois  voir  un  enfant  sur  le 
rivage  aniassant  des  coquilles,  et  commen(,ant  par  s'en  charger,  puis, 
tent6  par  celles  qu'il  voit  encore,  en  rejeter,  en  rcprendre,  jusqu'tL  ce 
qu'accabl>'  de  leur  multitude  et  ne  sachant  plus  que  choisir,  il  iinissc 
par  tout  Jeter,  ct  rctourne  a  vide. 


132  ROUSSEAU  S    "  EMILE. 

of  acquiring  it;  an  open,  intelligent  genius,  adapted 
to  everything,  and,  as  Montaigne  says,  if  not  in- 
structed, capable  of  receiving  instruction.  It  is  suffi- 
cient for  me  that  he  knows  how  to  discover  the  utility 
of  his  actions,  and  the  reason  fer  his  opinions.  Once 
again,  I  say,  my  object  is  not  to  furnish  his  mind 
with  knowledge,  but  to  teach  him  the  method  of  ac- 
quiring it  when  he  has  occasion  for  it ;  to  instruct  him 
how  to  hold  it  in  estimation,  and  to  inspire  him,  above 
all,  with  a  love  for  trutii.  By  this  method,  indeed, 
we  make  no  great  advances ;  but  then  we  never  take 
a  useless  step,  nor  are  we  obliged  to  turn  back 
again."* 

The  method  of  learning,  therefore,  was  to  be  chosen 
with  the  view  of  bringing  out  the  pupil's  powers: 
and  the  subjects  of  instruction  were  to  be  sufficiently 
varied  to  give  the  pupil  a  notion  of  the  connection  be- 
Iweeji  various  branches  of  knowledge,  and  to  ascer- 
tain the  direction  in  which  his  taste  and  talent  would 
lead  him.f 

*  Emile  a  peu  de  connaissances,  mais  celles  qu'il  a  sont  veritable 
men!  les  siennes;  il  ne  sait  rien  a  demi.  Dans  le  petit  nombre  de« 
choses  qu'il  sait  et  qu'il  sait  bien,  la  plus  importante  est  qu'il  y  en  « 
beaucoup  qu'il  ignore  et  qu'il  peut  savoir  iin  jour,  beaucoup  plus  que 
d'autres  hommes  savent  et  qu'il  ne  saura  de  sa  vie,  et  une  infinite 
d'autres  qu'aucun  homme  ne  saura  jamais.  II  a  un  esprit  universal, 
non  par  les  lumiores,  mais  par  la  faculto  d'en  acquerir;  un  esprit 
ouvert,  intelligent,  prc't  a  tout,  et,  comme  dit  Montaigne,  si  non 
instruil,  du  moins  instruisable  II  me  suffit  qu'il  sache  trouver  I'e 
quoi  boH  sur  tout  ce  qu'il  fait,  et  \q  fourqiioi  sur  tout  ce  qu'il  croit. 
Car,  encore  une  fois,  mon  objet  n'est  point  de  lui  donner  la  science, 
mais  de  lui  apprendre  a  I'acquerir  au  besoin,  de  la  lui  faire  estimer 
exactement  ce  qu'elle  vaut,  et  de  lui  faire  aimer  la  verite  par-dessus 
tout.  Avec  cette  methode  on  avance  peu,  mais  on  ne  fait  jamais  un 
pas  inutile,  ct  Ton  n'est  point  iorco  de  retrograder. 

fEn  faisant  ainsi  passer  devant  lui  tous  les  objets  qu'il  luiiuporU 


CULTIVATE   A   DESIRE   FOR    KNOWLEDGE.        1 33 

The  first  ihing  to  be  aimed  at  is  exciting  a  desire  ^ 
for  knowledge.  "  Direct  the  attention  of  your  pupil  ^ 
to  the  piienomena  of  nature,  and  you  will  soon  awaken  O 
his  curiosity ;  but  to  keep  that  curio.^ity  alive,  you 
must  be  in  no  haste  to  satisfy  it.  Put  questions  to  hina 
adapted  lo  his  capacity,  and  leave  him  to  resolve  them. 
He  is  not  lo  know  anything  because  you  have  told  it 
to  him,  but  because  he  has  himself  comprehended  it: 
he  should  not  learn,  but  discover,  science.  If  evei 
you  substitute  authority  in  the  place  of  argument,  he 
will  reason  no  lon<;er ;  he  will  be  ever  afterward . 
bandied  like  a  shuttlecock  between  the  opinions  of 
others."*  Curiosity,  when  aroused,  should  be  fostered 
by  suspense,  and  the  tutor  must,  above  all  things, 
avoid  what  Mr.  Wilson,  of  Rugby,  has  lately  called 
"  didactic  teaching."  "  I  do  not  at  all  admire  explan- 
atory discourses,"  says  Rousseau;  '*  young  people 
give  little  attention  to  them,  and  never  retain  them  in 
memory.  The  things  themselves  are  the  best  expla- 
nations.    I  can  never  enough  repeat  it,  that  we  make 

de  connaitre,  nous  le  mettons  dans  le  cas  de  dovelopper  son  gout, 
son  talent,  de  faire  les  premiers  pas  vers  I'objet  ou  le  porta  son 
genie,  et  de  nous  indiquer  la  route  qu'il  lui  fautouvrir  pour  seconder 
la  nature.  Un  autre  avantage  de  cet  enchaincment  de  connaissancea 
bornecs,  mais  justes,  est  de  les  lui  montrer  par  Icurs  liaisons,  par 
leurs  rapports,  de  les  mettre  toutes  a  leur  place  dans  son  estinie,  et 
de  prevenir  en  lui  les  projugos  qu'ont  la  plupart  des  hommcs  pour 
les  talents  qu'ils  cultivent,  centre  ceux  qu'ils  ont  negliges.  Celui 
qui  voit  bien  I'ordre  du  tout  voit  la  place  ou  doit  etre  chaque  partie; 
celui  qui  voit  bien  une  partie,  et  qui  la  connait  a  fond,  peut  etre  un 
savant  liomme:  I'autre  est  un  homme  judicieux;  et  vous  voiis 
souvenez  que  ce  que  nous  nous  proposons  d'acquerir  est  moins  la 
science  que  le  jugement. 

•  Rendez  voire  eleve  attentif  aux  ph^nomenes  de  la  nature,  bientot 
vous  le  rcndrez  curieux ;  mais,  pour  nourrir  sa  curiositd,  ne  vous 
pressez  jamais  de  la  «atisfaire.     Mettez  les  questions  a  sa  portfe,  el 


134  Rousseau's  "  emile.' 


words  of  too  much  consequence ;  with  our  prating 
modes  of  education  we  make  nothing  but  praters."* 

Tlie  grand  thing  to  be  educed,  was  self-teaching, 
*'  Obliged  to  learn  of  himself,  the  pupil  makes  use  of 
his  own  reason,  and  not  of  that  of  others  ;  for  to  give 
no  influence  to  opinion,  no  weight  should  be  given 
to  authority  ;  and  it  is  certain  that  our  errors  arise 
less  from  ourselves  than  from  others.  From  this 
continual  exercise  of  the  understanding  will  result 
a  vigor  of  mind,  like  that  which  we  give  the  body 
by  labor  and  fatigue.  Another  advantage  is,  thai 
we  advance  only  in  proportion  to  our  strength.  The 
mind,  like  the  body,  canies  that  only  which  it  cdn 
carry.  But  when  the  understanding  appropriates 
everytliing  before  it  commits  it  to  the  memory,  what- 
ever it  afterward  draws  from  thence  is  properly  its 
own ;  whereas,  in  overcharging  the  mind  without 
the  knowledge  of  the  understanding,  we  expose  our- 
selves to  the  inconvenience  of  never  drawing  out  any- 
thing which  belongs  to  us.**! 

laissez-les  lui  rosoudre.  Qu'il  ne  sache  rien  parce  que  vous  le  lui 
avez  dit,  mais  parce  qu'il  I'a  compris  lui-meme;  qtiil  rCapprenne 
fas  la  science,  quHl  Vinvente.  Si  jamais  vous  substituez  dans  son 
esprit  I'autorit^  ii  la  raison,  il  ne  raisonnera  plus;  il  ne  sera  plus 
que  le  jouet  de  I'opinion  des  autres. 

*Je  n'aime  point  les  explications  en  discours;  les  jeunes  gens  ^ 
foul  peu  d'attention  et  ne  les  retiennent  guure.  Les  choses!  Ics 
chose?!  Je  ne  repoterai  jamais  assez  que  nous  donnoiis  trop  de 
pouvoir  aux  mots;  avcc  notrc  education  babillarde  nous  ne  faisons 
que  des  babillards. 

t  l''orc6  d'apprendre  de  lui-mome,  il  use  de  sa  raison  et  non  de 
celle  d'autrui ;  car,  pour  ne  rien  donner  a  I'opinion,  il  ne  faut  rien 
donner  a  I'autorite;  et  la  plupart  de  noserreurs  nous  viennent  bien 
moins  de  nous  que  des  autres.  De  cet  exen:ice  continuel  il  doit 
resulter  une  vigueur  d'esprit  semblable  a  celk  qu'on  donne  nu  corpt 


SELF-TEACHING.  1 35 


Again  he  writes:  "We  acquire,  without  doubt, 
notions  more  clear  and  certain  of  things  we  thus  learn 
of  ourselves,  than  of  those  we  are  taught  by  others. 
Another  advanta<^^e  also  resulting  from  this  metliod  is, 
that  we  do  not  accustom  ourselves  to  a  servile  submis- 
sion to  the  authority  of  others  ;  but,  by  exercising  our 
reason,  grow  every  day  more  ingenious  in  the  discov- 
ery of  the  relations  of  things,  in  connecting  our  ideas 
and  in  the  contrivance  of  machines ;  whereas,  by 
adopting  those  which  are  put  into  our  hands,  our  in- 
vention grows  dull  and  indifferent,  as  the  man  who 
never  dresses  himself,  but  is  served  in  everything  by 
his  servants,  and  drawn  about  everywhere  by  his 
horses,  loses  by  degrees  the  activity  and  use  of  his 
limbs.  Boileau  boasted  that  he  had  taught  Racine  to 
rhyme  with  difficulty.  Among  the  many  admirable 
methods  taken  to  abridge  the  study  of  thti  sciences,  we 
are  in  great  want  of  one  to  make  us  learn  them  with 
effortr* 

par  le  travail  etpar  la  fatigue.  Un  autre  avantage  est  qu'on  n'avance 
qu'a  proportion  de  ses  forces.  L'esprit,  non  plus  que  le  corps,  nc 
porteque  ce  qu'il  peut  porter.  Q^iand  rentendement  s'approprie  les 
choses  avaiit  de  les  doposer  dans  la  meinoire,  ce  qu'il  en  tire  ensuitc 
est  a  lui:  au  lieu  qu'en  surchargeant  la  meinoire  a  son  insu,  on 
s'expose  a  n'en  jamais  rien  tirer  qui  iui  soit  propre. 

*  Sans  contredit  on  prend  des  notions  bien  plus  claires  et  bien 
plus  sures  des  choses  qu'on  apprend  ainsi  de  soi-mome,  que  do  celled 
qu'on  tient  des  enseignemcnts  d'autrui ;  et,  outre  qu'on  n'accoutume 
point  sa  raison  a  se  soumcttre  servilement  i\  Tautorit'',  Ton  se  rend 
plus  ingenieux  u  trouver  des  rapports,  h,  lier  des  idees,  si  invcnter 
des  instruments,  que  quand,  adoptant  tout  cela  tel  qu'on  nous  le 
donne,  nous  laissons  affaisser  notre  esprit  dans  la  nonchalance, 
comme  le  corps  d'un  homme  qui,  toujours  habillo,  chausso,  servi 
par  ses  gens  et  trains  parses  chevaux,  perd  a  la  fin  la  force  et  I'usage 
de  ses  raembres.  Boileau  se  vantait  d'avoir  appris  a  Racine  a  rimer 
difficilement.     Parmi  tant   d'adrairables  raethoucs    pour  abr^gei 


136  Rousseau's  "  emile.' 


Following  in  the  steps  of  Locke,  Rousseau  required 
his  model  pupil  to  learn  a  trade.  But  this  was  not  to 
be  acquired  as  a  mere  amusement.  First,  Rousseau 
required  it  to  secure  the  self-dependence  of  his  pupil, 
and  secondly,  to  improve  his  head,  as  well  as  his 
hands.  "If,  instead  of  keeping  a  boy  poring  over 
books,  I  employ  him  in  a  workshop,  his  hands  will  be 
busied  to  the  improvement  of  his  understanding  ;  he 
will  become  a  philosopher,  while  he  thinks  himsell 
only  an  artisan."* 

I  hope  the  quotations  I  have  now  given,  will 
suffice  to  convey  to  the  reader  some  of  Rousseau's 
main  ideas  on  the  subject  of  education.  The  "  £mile" 
was  once  a  popular  book  in  this  country.  In  David 
Williams'  Lectures  (dated  1789)  we  read,  "Rousseau 
is  in  full  possession  of  public  attention.  .  .  .  To 
be  heard  on  the  subject  of  education  it  is  expedien 
to  direct  our  observations  to  his  works."  But  now 
the  case  is  different.  In  the  words  of  Mr.  Herman 
Merivale,  "Rousseau  was  dethroned  with  the  fall  of 
his  extravagant  child  the  Republic."  Perhaps  we 
have  been  less  influenced  by  both  father  and  child 
than  any  nation  of  Europe  ;  and  if  so,  we  owe  this 
to  our  horror  of  extravagance.  The  English  intellect 
is  eminently  decorous, f  and  Rousseau's  disregard  for 
"  appearances,"   or   rather    his    evident    purpose   of 

i'etuds  des  sciences,  nous  aurions  grand  besoin  que  quelqu'un  nous 
en  donnat  une  pour  les  apprendre  avec  effort. 

*  Au  lieu  de  coller  un  enfant  sur  des  livres,  si  je  I'occupe  dans  ui 
atelier,  ses  mains  travaillent  au  profit  de  son  esprit :  il  devient  philo 
sophe,  et  croit  n'otre  qu'un  ouvricr. 

t  IIow  is  it  that  we  have  so  many  of  us  taken  to  making  observa- 
tions on  the  Enj^lish  mind,  as  if  we  were  as  external  to  it  as  the 
Japanese  jugglers?    Do  we  owe  tliis  to  Matthew  Arnold? 


THE    **  BMILE        NOT    READ    IN    ENGLAND.        I37 

making  an  impression  by  defying  "appearances'*  and 
saying  just  the  opposite  of  what  is  expected,  simply 
distresses  it.  Hence  the  "  £mile  "  has  long  ceased  to 
be  read  in  this  country,  and  the  only  English  transla- 
tion I  hav;.'  met  with  was  published  in  tiie  last  century, 
and  has  not  been  reprinted.*  So  Rousseau  now 
works  upon  us  only  through  his  disciples,  especiall} 
Pestalozzi ;  but  the  reader  will  see  from  the  passages 
I  have  selected,  that  we  have  often  listened  to  Rousseau 
unawares. 

The  truths  of  the  "  £mile  "will  survive  the  fantastic 
forms  which  are  there  forced  upon  them.  Of  these 
truths,  one  of  the  most  important,  to  my  mind,  is  the 
distinction  drawn  between  childliood  and  youth.  I 
do  not,  of  course,  insist  with  Rousseau,  that  a  child 
should  be  taught  nothing  till  the  day  on  which  he  is 
twelve  years  old,  and  then  that  instruction  should 
begin  all  at  once.  There  is  no  hard  and  fast  line 
that  can  be  drawn  between  the  two  stages  of  develop- 
ment:  the  change  from  one  to  the  other  is  gradual, 
and  in  point  of  time  differs  greatly  with  the  individ- 
ual. But  as  I  have  elsewhere  said,  I  believe  the 
difference  between  the  child  and  the  youth  to  be 
greater  than  the  difference  between  the  youth  and 
the  man ;  and  I  believe  further,  that  this  is  far  loo 
much  overlooked  in  our  ordinary  education.  Rous- 
seau, by  drawing  attention  to  the  sleep  of  reason  and 
to  the  activity  and  vigor  of  the  senses  in  childhood, 

*  The  above  quotations  are  from  this  translation,  but  in  correcting 
the  proofs,  I  have  discovered  that  it  will  not  stand  the  test  of  being 
brought  into  such  close  contact  with  the  French.  I  iiave  altered  itio 
many  places,  and  am  by  no  means  satisfied  with  what  I  have  le(V 

12 


138  Rousseau's  "  emile." 

became  one  of  the  most  important  educational  reform- 
ers, and  a  benefactor  of  mankind.* 

•This  teaching  of  Rousseau's  seems  especially  deserving  of  oui 
ccnsideration  now  that  it  has  been  proposed  to  elect  boys  of  thirteen 
to  Christ's  Hospital,  and  to  scholarships  in  other  schools,  by  com- 
petitive examination.  Whatever  advantages  may  have  resulted  from 
such  competition  in  the  case  of  older  pupils,  we  can  not  fairly  as- 
sume that  the  system  ought  to  be  extended  to  children.  Examina- 
tions can  not  test  the  proper  development  of  children,  or  mark  out 
llic  cleverest.  Indeed,  what  they  would  really  decide  for  us  would 
be,  not  which  were  the  cleverest  children,  but  which  l)ad  been  in- 
trusted to  the  cleverest  "crammers."  Thus  the  master  would  be 
.stimulated  to  "  ply  the  memory  and  load  the  brain  "  for  their  liveli- 
hood; and  a  race  of  precocious  children  terminating  their  intellec- 
tual career  at  the  point  where  it  ought  to  begin,  would  convince  us 
of  the  wisdom  of  Rousseau,  and  drive  uu  back  to  the  neglected  arts 
of  being  ignorant  and  losing  time.  See  Mr.  Arnold's  vigorous  pro- 
test against  examinations  of  children.  —  Schools  and  Universities  oj 
tke  CoMtinent,  chap,  v.,  pp.  60,  61. 


VI. 

BASEDOW  AND  THE  PIlILANTllROPIN. 


One  of  the  most  famous  movements  ever  made  in 
educational  reform  was  started  in  the  last  century  by 
Jolui  IJernard  Basedow.  Basedow  was  born  at  Ham- 
burg in  1723,  the  son  of  a  vvigmaker.  His  early  years 
were  not  spent  in  the  ordinary  happiness  of  childhood. 
His  mother  he  describes  as  melancholy,  almost  to  mad- 
ness, and  his  father  was  severe  almost  to  brutality.  Il 
was  the  father's  intention  to  bring  up  his  son  to  his 
own  business,  but  the  lad  ran  away,  an4  engaged  him- 
self as  servant  to  a  gentleman  in  Holstein.  The  mastei 
soon  perceived  what  had  never  occurred  to  the  father, 
viz.,  that  the  youth  had  very  extraordinary  abilities. 
Sent  home  with  a  letter  from  his  master  pointing  out 
this  notable  discovery,  Basedow  was  allowed  to  re- 
nounce the  paternal  calling,  and  to  go  to  the  Hamburg 
Grammar  School  {Gyvmasium),  where  he  was  under 
Reimarus,  the  author  of  the  "  Wolfenbuttel  Frag- 
ment." In  due  course  his  friends  managed  to  send 
him  to  the  University  of  Leipzig  to  prepare  himself 
for  the  least  expensive  of  the  learned  professions — 
the  clerical.  Basedow,  however,  was  not  a  man  to 
follow  the  beaten  tracks.  After  an  irregular  life  he 
left  the  university  too  unorthodox  to  think  of  being 
ordained,  and  in  1749  became  private  tutor  to  the  chil- 
dren of  Herr  von  Quaalen,  in  Holstein.     In  this  sit- 

(139) 


I40  BASEDOW    AND    THE    PHILANTHROPIN. 

uation  his  talent  for  inventing  new  methods  of  teach- 
ing first  showed  itself.  He  knew  how  to  adapt  him- 
self to  the  capacity  of  the  children,  and  he  taught  them 
much  by  conversation,  and  in  the  way  of  play,  con- 
necting his  instruction  with  surrounding  objects  in  the 
house,  garden,  or  fields.  Through  Quaalen's  influence, 
he  next  obtained  a  professorship  at  Soroe,  in  Den- 
mark, where  he  lectured  for  eight  years,  but  his  un- 
orthodox writings  raised  a  storm  of  opposition,  and 
the  Government  finally  removed  him  to  the  Gymna- 
sium at  Altona.  Here  he  still  continued  his  efforts  to 
change  the  prevailing  opinion  in  religious  matters,  and 
so  great  a  stir  was  made  by  the  publication  of  his 
'*  Philalethia,"  and  his  "  Methodical  Instruction  in 
both  Natural  and  Biblical  Religion,"  that  he  and  his 
family  were  refused  the  Communion  at  Altona,  and 
his  books  were  excluded,  under  a  heavy  penalty,  from 
Liibeck. 

About  tliis  time  Basedow,  incited  by  Rousseau's 
"  £mile,"  turned  his  attention  to  a  fresh  field  of 
activity,  in  which  he  was  to  make  as  many  friends 
as  in  theology  he  had  found  enemies.  A  very  gen- 
eral dissatisfaction  was  then  felt  with  the  condition  of 
the  schools.  Physical  education  was  not  attempted 
in  them.  The  mother-tongue  was  neglected.  In- 
struction in  Latin  and  Greek,  which  was  the  only 
instruction  given,  was  carried  on  in  a  mechanical 
way,  without  any  thought  of  improvement.  The 
education  of  the  poor  and  of  the  middle  classes  received 
but  little  attention.  "Youth,"  says  Raumer,  "was 
in  those  days,  for  most  children,  a  sadly  harassed 
period.  Instruction  was  hard  and  heartlessly  severe. 
Grammar  was  caned  into  the  memory,  so  vsere  por- 


NEED    OF    A    REVOLUTION.  I4I 

tions  of  Scripture  and  poetry.  A  common  school  pun- 
ishment was  to  learn  by  heart  Psalm  cxix.  School- 
rooms were  dismally  dark.  No  one  conceived  it 
possible  that  the  young  could  find  pleasure  in  any  kind 
of  work,  or  that  they  had  eyes  for  aught  besides  read 
ing  and  writing.  The  pernicious  age  of  Louis  XIV. 
had  inflicted  on  the  poor  children  of  the  upper  classes, 
hair  curled  by  the  barber  and  messed  with, powder 
and  pomade,  braided  coats,  knee  breeches,  silk  stock- 
ings, and  a  dagger  by  the  side — for  active,  lively 
children  a  perfect  torture"  (Geschichte  der  Padago- 
gik,  ii.  297).  Kant  gave  expression  to  a  very  wide- 
spread feeling  when  he  said  that  what  was  wanted  in 
education  was  no  longer  a  reform  but  a  revolution. 

Here,  then,  was  a  good  scope  offered  for  innovators, 
and  Basedow  was  a  prince  of  innovators. 

Having  succeeded  in  interesting  the*  Danish  minis- 
ter, Bernsdorf,  in  his  plans,  he  was  permitted  to  devote 
himself  entirely  to  a  work  on  the  subject  of  education 
whilst  retaining  his  income  from  the  Altona  Gym- 
nasium. The  result  was,  his  "  Address  to  the  Philan- 
thropists and  Men  of  Property,  on  Schools  and  Studies, 
and  their  Influence  on  the  Public  Weal,"  in  which  he 
announces  the  plan  of  his  *' Elementary."*  In  this 
address  he  calls  upon  princes,  governments,  town- 
councils,  dignitaries  of  the  Church,  freemasons'  lodges, 
etc.,  if  they  loved  their  fellow-creatures,  to  come  to 
his  assistance  in  bringing  out  his  book.  Nor  did  h 
call  in  vain.  When  the  "Elementary"  at  length  ap 
peared  (in  1774),  ^^^  ^^^^  ^°  acknowledge  contributions 
from  the  emperor  Joseph  II.,  from  Catherine  II.  of 

*  I  avail  myself  of  the  old  substantival  use  of  the  word  elementary 
to  express  its  German  equivalent  Elementarbuck. 


142  BASEDOW    AND    THE    PHILANTHROPIN. 

Russia,  from  Christian  VII.  of  Denmark,  from  the 
Grand  Prince  Paul,  and  many  other  celebrities,  the 
total  sum  received  being  over  2,000/. 

While  Basedow  was  traveling  about  to  get  subscrip- 
tions, he  spent  some  time  in  Frankfort,  and  thence 
made  an  excursion  to  Ems  with  two  distinguished  com- 
panions, one  of  them  Lavater,  and  the  other  a  young 
man  of  five-and-tvventy,  already  celebrated  as  the 
autlior  of  "  Gotz  von  Berlichingen,"  and  the  "Sorrows 
of  Werther."  Of  Basedow's  personal  peculiarities  at 
this  time,  Gothe  has  left  us  an  amusing  description  in 
the  "Wahrheit  und  Dichtung ;"  but  we  must  accept 
the  portrait  with  caution  :  the  sketch  was  thrown  in  as 
an  artistic  contrast  with  that  of  Lavater,  and  no  doub, 
exaggerates  those  features  in  which  the  antithesis 
could  be  brought  out  with  best  effect. 

"One  could  not  see,"  writes  Gothe,  "a  more 
marked  contrast  than  between  Lavater  and  Basedow. 
As  the  lines  of  Lavater's  countenance  were  free  and 
open  to  the  beholder,  so  were  Basedow's  contracted,  and 
as  it  were  drawn  inward.  Lavater's  eye  clear  and 
benign,  under  a  very  wide  eyelid;  Basedow's,  on  the 
other  hand,  deep  in  his  head,  small,  black,  sharp, 
gleaming  out  from  under  shaggy  eyebrows,  whilst 
Lavater's  frontal  bone  seemed  bounded  by  two  arches 
of  the  softest  brown  hair.  Basedow's  impetuous 
rough  voice,  his  rapid  and  sharp  utterances,  a  certain 
derisive  laugh,  an  abrupt  changing  of  the  topic  of  con- 
versation, and  whatever  else  distinguished  him,  all 
were  opposed  to  the  peculiarities  and  the  behavior  by 
which  Lavater  had  been  making  us  overfastidious." 

Gothe  approved  of  Basedow's  desire  to  make  all  in- 
struction lively  and  natural,  and  thought  that  his  sys 


BASEDOW    WITH    GOTHE.  143 


tern  would  promote  mental  activity  and  give  the  young 
a  freslier  view  of  the  world :  but  ho  finds  fault  with 
tlie  "Elementary,"  and  prefers  tlie  "  Orbis  Pictus  " 
of  Comenius,  in  which  subjects  are  presented  in  tiieir 
natural  connection.  Basedow  himself,  says  Gothe, 
was  not  a  man  either  to  edify  or  to  lead  other  people. 
Although  the  object  of  his  journey  was  to  interest  the 
public  in  his  philanthropic  enterprise,  and  to  open  not 
only  hearts  but  purses,  and  he  was  able  to  speak  elo- 
quently and  convincingly  on  the  subject  of  education, 
he  spoilt  everything  by  his  tirades  against  prevalent 
religious  belief,  especially  on  the  subject  of  the  Trinity. 

Gothe  found  in  Basedow's  society  an  opportunity 
of  '*  exercising,  if  not  enlightening,"  his  mind,  so  he 
b9re  with  his  personal  peculiarities,  though  appar- 
ently with  great  difficulty.  Basedow  seems  to  have 
delighted  in  worrying  his  associates.  ."He  would 
never  see  any  one  quiet  but  he  provoked  him  with 
mocking  irony,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  or  put  Him  to  con- 
fusion by  an  unexpected  question,  and  laughed  bit- 
terly when  he  had  gained  his  end  ;  yet  he  was  pleased 
when  the  object  of  his  jests  was  quick  enough  to  col- 
lect himself,  and  answer  in  the  same  strain."  So  far 
Gothe  was  his  match,  but  he  was  nearly  routed  by 
Basedow's  use  of  bad  tobacco,  and  of  some  tinder  still 
worse  with  which  he  was  constantly  lighting  his  pipt.' 
and  poisoning  the  air  insufferably.  He  soon  dis- 
covered Gothe's  dislike  to  this  preparation  of  his,  so 
he  took  a  malicious  pleasure  in  using  it  and  dilating 
upon  its  merits. 

Here  is  an  odd  account  of  their  intercourse.  Dur- 
ing their  stay  at  Ems,  Gothe  went  a  great  deal  into 
fashionable  society.     "  To  make  up  for  these  dissipa- 


144  BASEDOW    AND    THE    PHILANTHROPIN. 

tions,"  he  writes,  *'  I  always  passed  a  part  of  the  night 
with  Basedow.  He  never  went  to  bed,  but  dictated 
without  cessation.  Occasionally  he  cast  himself  on 
the  couch  and  slumbered,  while  his  amanuensis  sat 
quietly,  pen  in  hand,  ready  to  continue  his  work 
when  the  half-awakened  author  should  once  more 
give  free  course  to  his  thoughts.  All  this  took  place 
in  a  close  confined  chamber,  filled  with  the  fumes  of 
tobacco  and  the  odious  tinder.  As  often  as  I  was  dis- 
engaged from  a  dance  I  hastened  up  to  Basedow,  who 
was  ready  at  once  to  speak  and  dispute  on  any  ques- 
tion ;  and  when  after  a  time  I  hurried  again  to  the 
ball-room,  before  I  had  closed  the  door  behind  me  he 
would  resume  the  thread  of  his  essay  as  composedly 
as  if  he  had  been  engaged  with  nothing  else." 

It  was  through  a  friend  of  Gothe's,  Behrisch, 
whose  acquaintance  we  make  in  the  "Wahrheit  und 
Dichtung,"  that  Basedow  became  connected  with 
Prince  Leopold  of  Dessau.  Behrisch  was  tutor  to  the 
Prince's  son,  and  by  him  the  Prince  was  so  interested 
in  Basedow's  plans  that  he  determined  to  found  an 
Institute  in  which  they  should  be  realized.  Basedow 
was  theiefore  called  to  Dessau,  and  under  his  direc- 
tion was  opened  the  famous  Philanthropin.  Then  for 
the  firet,  and  probably  for  the  last  time,  a  school  was 
started  in  which  use  and  wont  were  entirely  set  aside, 
and  everything  done  on  "  improved  principles."  Such 
a  bold  enterprise  attracted  the  attention  of  all  inter- 
ested in  education,  far  and  near  :  but  it  would  seem 
that  few  parents  considered  their  own  children  vilia 
corpora  on  whom  experiments  might  be  made  for  the 
public  good.  When,  in  May,  1776,  a  number  of 
schoolmasters  and  others  collected  from  different  parts 


PHILANTHROIMN    OPENED.  I45 

of  Germany,  and  even  from  beyond  Germany,  to  be 
present  by  Basedow's  invitation  at  an  examination  of 
the  children,  they  found  only  thirteen  pupils  in  the 
Philanthropin,  including  Basedow's  own  son  and 
daughter. 

Before  we  investigate  how  Basedow's  principles 
were  embodied  in  the  Philanthropin,  let  us  see  the 
form  in  which  he  had  already  announced  them.  The 
great  \^ork  from  which  all  children  were  to  be 
taught  was  the  "  Elementary."  As  a  companion  to 
this  was  published  the  "  Book  of  Method  "  {Mcthoden- 
bitch)  for  parents  and  teachers.  The  *'  Elementary" 
is  a  work  in  which  a  great  deal  of  information  about 
things  in  general  is  given  in  the  form  of  dialogue, 
interspersed  with  tales  and  easy  poetry.  Except  in 
bulk,  it  does  not  seem  to  me  to  differ  very  materially 
from  many  of  the  reading  books  whicb,  in  late  years, 
have  been  published  in  this  country.  It  had  the 
advantage,  however,  of  being  accompanied  by  a  set 
of  engravings  to  which  the  text  referred,  though  they 
were  too  large  to  be  bound  up  with  it.  The  root- 
ideas  of  Basedow  put  forth  in  his  "  Book  of  Method," 
and  other  writings,  are  those  of  Rousseau.  For 
example,  "  You  sliould  attend  to  nature  in  your  chil- 
dren far  more  than  to  art.  The  elegant  manners 
and  usages  of  the  world  are  for  the  most  part  un 
natural  (^Unnatur).  These  come  of  themselves  in 
later  years.  Treat  children  like  children,  that  they 
may  remain  the  longer  uncorrupted.  A  boy  whose 
acutest  faculties  ^re  his  senses,  and  who  has  no  per- 
ception of  anything  abstract,  must  first  of  all  be 
made  acquainted  with  the  world  as  it  presents  itself 

lo   the   senses.     Let   this   be   shown   him   in  nature 
13 


146  BASEDOW   AND   THE    PHILANTHROPIN. 

itself,  or  where  this  is  impossible,  in  I'aitliful  drawings 
or  models.  Thereby  can  he,  even  in  play,  learn  how 
the  various  objects  are  to  be  named.  Comenius  alone 
has  pointed  out  the  right  road  in  this  matter.  By 
all  means  reduce  the  wretched  exercises  cf  the 
memory."  Elsewhere  he  gives  instances  of  the  sort 
of  things  to  which  this  method  should  be  applied. 
1st.  Man.  Here  he  would  use  pictures  of  foreigners 
and  wild  men,  also  a  skeleton,  a  hand  in  spirits,  and 
other  objects  still  more  appropriate  to  a  surgical 
museum.  2d.  Animals.  Only  such  animals  are  to 
be  depicted  as  it  is  useful  to  know  about,  because 
there  is  much  that  ought  to  be  known,  and  a  good 
method  of  instruction  must  shorten  rather  than 
increase  the  hours  of  study.  Articles  of  commerce 
made  from  the  animals  may  also  be  exhibited. 
3d.  Trees  and  plants.  Only  the  most  important 
are  to  be  selected.  Of  these  the  seeds  also  must  be 
shown,  and  cubes  formed  of  the  different  woods. 
Gardeners'  and  farmers'  implements  are  to  be  ex- 
plained. 4th.  Minerals  and  chemical  substances. 
5th.  Mathematical  instruments  for  weighing  and  meas- 
uring ;  also  the  air-pump,  siphon,  and  the  like.  The 
form  and  motion  of  the  earth  are  to  be  explained  with 
globes  and  maps.  6th.  Trades.  The  use  of  various 
tools  is  to  be  taught.  7th.  History.  This  is  to  be 
illustrated  by  engravings  of  historical  events.  8th. 
Commerce.  Samples  of  commodities  may  be  pro- 
duced. 9th.  The  younger  children  should  be  shown 
pictures  of  familiar  objects  about  the  house  and  its 
surroundings. 

We  see  from  this  list  that  Basedow  contemplated 
giving  his  educational  course  the  charm  of  variety. 


SUBJECTS    TAUGHT.  I47 


Indeed,  with  that  candor  in  acknowledging  mistakes 
which  partly  makes  amends  for  the  effrontery  tf>o 
common  in  the  trumpetings  of  his  own  performances, 
past,  present,  and  to  come,  he  confesses  that  when 
he  began  the  "Elementary"  he  had  exaggerated  no- 
tions of  the  amount  boys  were  capable  of  learning, 
and  that  he  had  subsequently  very  much  contracted 
his  proposed  curriculum.  And  even  "  the  Revolution," 
which  was  to  introduce  so  much  new  learning  into  the 
schools,  could  not  afford  entirely  to  neglect  the  old. 
However  pleased  parents  miglu  be  with  the  novel  ac- 
quirements of  their  children,  they  were  not  likely  to 
be  satisfied  without  the  usual  knowledge  of  Latin,  and 
still  less  would  they  tolerate  the  neglect  of  French, 
which,  in  German  polite  society  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, was  the  recognized  substitute  for  the  vulgar 
tongue.  These,  then,  must  be  taught.'  But  the  old 
methods  might  be  abandoned,  if  not  the  old  subjects. 
Basedow  proposed  to  teach  both  French  and  Latin 
by  conversation .  Let  a  cabinet  of  models,  or  some 
thing  of  tlie  kind,  be  shown  the  children  ;  let  them 
learn  the  names  of  the  different  objects  in  Latin  or 
French  ;  then  let  questions  be  asked  in  those  lan- 
guages, and  the  right  answers  at  first  put  into  the  chil- 
dren's mouths.  When  they  have  in  this  way  acquired 
some  knowledge  of  the  language,  they  may  apply  it 
to  the  translating  of  an  easy  book.  Basedow  does  not 
claim  originality  for  the  conversational  method.  lie 
appeals  to  the  success  with  which  it  had  been  already 
used  in  teaching  French.  "Are  the  French  govern- 
esses," he  asks,  "  who,  without  vocabularies  and  gram- 
mars, first  by  conversation,  then  by  reading,  teach 
their  language  very  successfully  and  very  rapidly  in 


148  BASEDOW    AND    THE    PHILANTHROPIN. 

schools  of  from  thirty  to  forty  clnldren,  better  teachers 
'than  most  masters  in  our  Latin  schools?" 

On  the  subject  of  religion  the  instruction  was  to  be 
quite  as  original  as  in  matters  of  less  importance. 
The  teachers  were  to  give  an  impartial  account  of  all 
religions,  and  nothing  but  "natural  religion"  was  to 
be  inculcated. 

The  key-note  of  the  whole  system  was  to  be — every- 
thing according  to  nature.  The  natural  desires  and 
inclinations  of  the  children  were  to  be  educated  and 
directed  aright,  but  in  no  case  to  be  suppressed. 

These,  then,  were  the  principles  and  the  methods 
which,  as  Basedow  believed,  were  to  revolutionize 
education  through  the  success  of  the  Philanthropin. 
Basedow  himself,  as  we  might  infer  from  Gothe's  de- 
scription of  him,  was  by  no  means  a  model  director 
for  the  model  Institution,  but  he -was  fortunate  in 
his  assistants.  Of  these  he  had  three  at  the  lime  of 
the  public  examination,  of  whom  Wolke  is  said  to  have 
been  the  ablest. 

A  lively  description  of  the  examination  was  after- 
ward published  by  Herr  Schummel  of  Magdeburg, 
under  the  title  of  "  Fred's  Journey  to  Dessau."  It 
purports  to  be  written  by  a  boy  of  twelve  years  old, 
and  to  describe  what  took  place  without  attempting 
criticism.  A  few  extracts  will  give  us  a  notion  of  the 
instruction  carried  on  in  the  Philanthropin. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  a  visit  with  my  father  to 
the  Philanthropin,  where  I  saw  Herr  Basedow,  Herr 
Wolke,  Herr  Simon,  Herr  Schweigliauser,  and  the 
litile  Philantliropinistsf  I  am  delighted  with  all  that 
I  have  seen,  and  hardly  know  where  to  begin  my  de- 
scription of  it.     There  are  two  large  white  houses,  and 


FRITZENS    KEISE    NACII    DESSAU.  I49 

near  them  a  field  with  trees.  A  pupil— not  one  of  the 
regular  scliolais,  but  of  those  ihcy  call  Famulants  [a 
poorer  class,  who  were  servitors] — received  us  at  the 
door,  and  asked  if  we  wished  to  see  Herr  Basedow. 
We  said  '  Yes,'  and  he  look  us  into  the  other  house, 
where  we  found  Herr  Basedow  in  a  dressing-gown, 
writing  at  a  desk.  We  came  at  an  inconvenient  time, 
and  Herr  Basedow  said  he  was  very  busy.  He  was 
very  friendly,  however,  and  promised  to  visit  us  in  the 
evening.  We  then  went  into  the  other  house,  and  in- 
quired for  Herr  Wolke."  By  him  they  were  taken  to 
the  scholars.  "  They  have,"  says  Fred,  "  their  hair 
cut  very  short,  and  no  wig- maker  is  employed.  Their 
throats  are  quite  open,  and  their  shirt-collar  falls  back 
over  their  coats."  Further  on  he  describes  the  exam- 
ination. "  Thf^  little  ones  have  gone  through  the  odd- 
est performances.  They  play  at  '  word-of-command/' 
Eight  or  ten  stand  in  a  line  like  soldiers,  and  Herr 
Wolke  is  officer  He  gives  the  word  in  Latin,  and 
they  must  do  whatever  he  says.  For  instance,  when^ 
he  says  Claudite  oculos^  they  all  shut  'tiieir  eyes ; 
when  he  says  Circums-picite^  they  look  about  them ; 
Imiiamini  sartor  cm,  they  all  sew  like  tailors  ;  //«/- 
tatnini  suloremy  they  draw  the  waxed  thread  like  the 
cobblers.  Herr  Wolke  gives  a  thousand  different  com- 
mands in  the  drollest  fashion.  Another  game,  '  the 
hiding  game,'  I  will  also  teach  you.  Some  one 
A'rites  a  name,  and  hides  it  from  the  children — the 
name  of  some  part  of  the  body,  or  of  a  plant,  or 
animal,  or  metal — and  the  children  guess  what  it  is. 
Whoever  guesses  right  gets  an  apple  or  a  piece  of 
cake.  One  of  the  visitors  wrote  Intcsiina^  and  told 
the   children  it  was  a  part  of  the  bodv-     Tlien  tlu' 


150  BASEDOW   AND    THE    PHILANTHROPIN. 

guessing  began.  One  guessed  cafut^  another  nasus, 
another  os^  another  manus^  -pes^  digiti^  pectus^  and  so 
forth,  for  a  long  time ;  but  one  of  them  hit  it  at  last. 
Next,  Herr  Wolke  wrote  the  name  of  a  beast,  a 
quadruped.  Then  came  the  guesses  :  leo,  ursuSj  ca- 
melus,  elephas,  and  so  on,  till  one  guessed  right — it 
was  7nus.  Then  a  town  was  written,  and  they  guessed 
Lisbon,  Madrid,  Paris,  London,  till  a  child  won  with 
St.  Petersburg.  They  had  another  game,  which  was 
this :  Herr  Wolke  gave  the  command  in  Latin,  and 
they  imitated  the  noises  of  different  animals,  and 
made  us  laugh  till  we  were  tired.  They  roared  like 
lions,  crowed  like  cocks,  mewed  like  cats,  just  as  they 
were  bid." 

The  subject  that  was  next  handled  had  also  the 
ffect  of  making  the  strangers  laugh,  till  a  severe 
eproof  from  Herr  Wolke  restored  their  gravity.  A 
picture  was  brought,  in  which  was  represented  a  sad- 
looking  woman,  whose  person  indicated  the  approach- 
mg  arrival  of  another  subject  for  education.  From 
So  one  part  of  the  picture  it  also  appeared  that  the 
'^  prospective  mother,  with  a  prodigality  of  forethought, 
*^>^^^had  got  ready  clothing  for  both  a  boy  and  a  girl. 
^  >  After  a  warning  from  Herr  Wolke,  that  this  was  a 
most  serious  and  important  subject,  the  children  were 
questioned  on  the  topics  the  picture  suggested.  They 
were  further  taught  the  debt  of  gratitude  they  owed  tc 
their  mothers,  and  the  German  fiction  about  the  stoik 
'dismissed  with  due  contempt. 

Next  came  the  examination  in  arithmetic.  Here 
there  seems  to  have  been  nothing  remarkable,  except 
Uiat  all  the  rules  were  worked  viva  voce.  From  the 
arithmetic  Herr  Wolke  went  on  to  an  '*  Attempt  at 


MODE    OF   TEACHING.  151 


various  small  drawings."  He  asked  the  children  what 
he  shoukl  draw.  Some  one  answaved  /cone /n.  He 
then  pretended  he  was  drawing  a  lion,  but  put  a 
beak  to  it ;  whereupon  the  children  shouted  JVon 
est  Ico — hones  non  habcnt  rostrum!  He  went  on  to 
other  subjects,  as  the  children  direcied  him,  some- 
times gomg  wrong  that  the  children  might  pu 
him  right.*  In  the  next  exercise  dice  were  intro- 
duced, and  the  children  threw  to  see  who  should 
give  an  account  of  an  engraving.  The  engravings 
represented  workmen  at  their  different  trades,  and 
the  child  had  to  explain  the  process,  the  tools,  etc. 
A  lesson  on  plowing  and  harrowing  was  given  in 
French,  and  another,  on  Alexander's  expedition  to 
India,  in  Latin.  Four  of  the  pupils  translated  pas- 
sages from  Curtius  and  from  Castellion's  Bible, 
which  were  read  to  them.  "  These  children,"  said 
the  teacher,  "  knew  not  a  word  of  Latin  a  year  ago." 
"  The  listeners  were  well  pleased  with  the  Latin," 
writes  Fred,  "except  two  or  three,  whom  I  heard 
grumbling  that  this  was  all  child's  play,  and  that  if 
Cicero,  Livy,  and  Horace  were  introduced,  it  would 
soon  be  seen  what  was  the  value  of  Philanthropinist 
Latin."  After  the  examination,  two  comedies  were 
acted  by  the  children,  one  in  French,  the  other  in 
German. 

Most  of  the  strangers  seem  to  have  left  Dessau  witl 
a  favorable   impression  of  the  Philanthropin.     The} 


*  As  an  amusing  specimen  of  the  taste  of  the  time,  I  may  mention 
tliat  when  in  drawing  a  house  Herr  Wolke  put  the  door  rrot  quite  in 
the  middle,  the  children  insisted  on  having  another  door  to  corrfr 
Bpond  propter  symmetriam. 


152  BASEDOW    AND   THE    PHILANTHROPIN. 

were  especially  struck  with  the  brightness  and  anima- 
tion of  the  children. 

How  far  did  the  Philanthropin  really  deserve  theii 
good  opinion?  The  conclusion  to  which  we  are 
driven  by  Fred's  narrative  is,  that  Basedow  carried 
to  excess  his  principle — "treat  children  as  children, 
that  they  may  remain  tiie  longer  uncorrupted ;"  and 
that  the  Philanthropin  was,  in  fact,  nothing  but  a 
good  infant-school.  Surely  none  of  the  thirteen 
children  who  were  the  subjects  of  Basedow's  ex- 
periments could  iiave  been  more  than  ten  years  old. 
But  if  we  consider  Basedow's  system  to  have  been 
intended  for  children.,  say  between  the  ages  of  six  and 
ten,  we  must  allow  that  it  possessed  great  merits.  At 
the  very  beginning  of  a  boy's  learning,  it  has  always 
been  too  much  the  custom  to  make  him  hate  tlie  sight 
of  a  book,  and  escape  at  every  opportunity  from 
school-work,  by  giving  him  difficult  tasks,  and  neg- 
lecting his  acutest  faculties.  *'  Children  love  motion 
and  noise,*'  says  Basedow:  "here  is  a  hint  from 
nature."  Yet  the  youngest  children  in  most  schools 
are  expected  to  keep  quiet  and  to  sit  at  their  books  for 
as  many  hours  as  the  youths  of  seventeen  or  eighteen. 
Their  vivacity  is  repressed  with  the  cane.  Tlieir  de- 
light in  exercising  their  hands  and  eyes  and  ears  is 
taken  no  notice  of;  and  they  are  required  to  keep 
their  attention  fixed  on  subjects  often  beyond  their 
comprehension,  and  almost  always  beyond  the  range 
of  their  interests.  Every  one  who  has  had  experience 
in  teaching  boys  knows  how  hard  it  is  to  get  them  to 
throw  themselves  heartily  into  any  task  whatever ;  and 
piobably  this  difficulty  arises  in  many  cases,  from  the 
habits  of  inattention  and  of   shirking  school-worki 


GOOD    SIDE    OF   THE    PHILANTIIROPIN.  I53 

which  the  boys  have  acquired  almost  necessarily  from 
the  dreariness  of  their  earliest  lessons.  Basedow  de- 
termined to  change  all  this ;  and  in  the  Philanthropin 
no  doubt  he  succeeded.  We  have  already  seen  some 
of  the  expedients  by  which  he  sought  to  render  school- 
work  pleasurable.  He.  appealed,  wherever  it  was 
possible,  to  the  children's  senses  ;  and  these,  especially 
the  sight,  were  trained  with  great  care  by  exercises, 
such  as  drawing,  shooting  at  a  mark,  etc.  One  of 
these  exercises,  intended  to  give  quick  perception, 
bears  a  curious  likeness  to  what  has  since  been  prac- 
ticed in  a  very  different  educational  system.  A  pic- 
ture, with  a  somewhat  varied  subject,  was  exhibited 
for  a  short  time  and  removed.  The  boys  had  then, 
either  verbally  or  on  paper,  to  give  an  account  of  it, 
naming  the  different  objects  in  proper  order.  Houdin, 
if  I  rightly  remember,  tells  us  that  the  young  thieves 
of  Paris  are  required  by  their  masters  to  make  a  men- 
tal inventory  of  the  contents  of  a  shop  window,  which 
they  see  only  as  they  walk  rapidly  h}-k  Other  exer- 
cises of  the  Philanthropin  connected  the  pupils  with 
moie  honorable  callings.  They  became  acquainted 
with  both  skilled  and  unskilled  manual  labor.  Every 
boy  was  taught  a  handicraft,  such  as  carpentering 
and  turning,  and  was  put  to  such  tasks  as  thresh- 
ing corn.  Basedow's  division  of  the  twenty-four 
hours  was  the  following :  Eight  hours  for  sleep,  eight 
for  food  and  amusement,  and,  for  the  children  of  the 
rich,  six  hours  of  school-work,  and  two  of  fnanual 
labor.  In  the  case  of  the  children  of  the  poor,  he 
would  have  the  division  of  the  last  eight  hours  inverted, 
and  would  give  for  school-work  two,  and  for  manual 
labor  six.     The  development  of  the  body  was  spe- 


154  BASEDOW   AND   THE    PHILANTHROPIN. 

daily  cared  for  in  the  Philanthropin.  Gymnastics 
were  now  first  introduced  into  modern  schools ;  and 
the  boys  were  taken  long  expeditions  on  foot — the 
commencement,  I  believe,  of  a  practice  now  common 
hroughout  Germany. 

x\s  I  have  already  said,  Basedow  proved  a  very 
anfit  person  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  model  Insti- 
.  tuiion.  Many  of  his  friends  agreed  with  Herder,  that 
he  was  not  fit  to  have  calves  intrusted  to  him,  much 
less  children.  He  soon  resigned  his  post ;  and  was 
succeeded  by  Campe,  who  had  been  one  of  the  visit- 
ors at  the  public  examination.  Campe  did  not  remain 
long  at  the  Philanthropin  ;  but  left  it  to  set  up  a  school, 
on  like  principles,  at  Hamburg.  His  fame  now  rests 
on  his  writings  for  the  young ;  one  of  which — "Rob- 
inson Crusoe  the  Younger" — is  still  a  general  favorite. 

Other  distinguished  men  became  connected  with 
the  Philanthropin — among  them  Salzmann,  and  Mat- 
thison  the  poet — and  the  number  of  pupils  rose  to  over 
fifty ;  gathered,  we  are  told,  from  all  parts  of  Europe 
between  Riga  and  Lisbon.  But  this  number  is  by  no 
means  a  fair  measure  of  the  interest,  nay,  enthusiasm 
which  the  experiment  excited.  We  find  Pastor  Ober- 
lin  raising  money  on  his  wife's  ear-rings  to  send  a 
donation.  We  find  the  philosopher  Kant  prophesying 
that  quite  another  race  of  men  would  grow  up,  now 
that  education,  according  to  Nature,  had  been  intro- 
duced. 

These  hopes  were  disappointed.  Kant  confesses 
as  uiuch  in  the  following  passage  in  his  treatise  "On 
Paedagogy :" 

"One  fancies,  indeed,  that  experiments  in  education 
would  not  be  necessary ;  and  that  we  might  judge  by 


KANTS  VERDICT.  1$^ 

the  understanding  whether  any  plan  would  turn  out 
well  or  ill.  But  this  is  a  great  mistake.  Experience 
shows  that  often  in  our  experiments  we  get  quite  oppo- 
site results  from  what  we  had  anticipated.  Wc  see, 
too,  that  since  experiments  are  necessary,  it  is  not  in 
the  power  of  one  generation  to  form  a  complete  plan 
of  education.  The  only  experimental  school  which, 
to  some  extent,  made  a  beginning  in  clearing  the  road, 
was  the  Institute  at  Dessau.  This  praise  at  least  must 
be  allowed  it,  notwithstanding  the  many  faults  which 
could  be  brought  up  against  it — faults  which  are  sure 
to  show  tiiemselves  when  we  come  to  the  results  of 
our  experiments,  and  which  merely  prove  that  fresh 
experiments  are  necessary.  It  was  the  only  school 
in  which  the  teachers  had  liberty  to  work  according 
to  their  own  methods  and  schemes,  and  where  they 
were  in  free  communication  both  aniong  themselves 
and  with  all  learned  men  throughout  Germany." 

We  observe  here,  that  Kant  speaks  of  the  Philan 
thropin  as  a  thing  of  the  past.  It  was  finall}'^  closed 
in  1793.  But  even  from  Kant  we  learn  that  the  ex- 
periment had  been  by  no  means  a  useless  one.  The 
conservatives,  of  course,  did  not  neglect  to  point  out 
tiiat  young  Philanthropinists,  when  they  left  school, 
were  not  in  all  respects  the  superiors  of  their  fellow- 
creatures.  But,  although  no  one  could  pretend  that 
the  Philanthropin  had  effected  a  tithe  of  what  Basedow 
promised,  and  the  "friends  of  luimanity"  throughout 
Europe  expected,  it  had  introduced  many  new  ideas, 
which  in  time  had  their  influence,  even  in  the  schools 
of  the  opposite  party.  Moreover,  teachers  who  had 
been  connected  with  the  Philanthropin,  founded 
schools  on  similar  principles  in  different  parts  of  Ger- 


156  BASEDOW   AND   THE   PHILANTHROPIN. 

many  and  Switzerland,  some  of  which  long  outlived 
the  parent  institution.  Their  doctrines,  too,  made 
converts  among  other  masters,  the  most  celebrated  oi 
whom  Was  Meierotto  of  Berlin. 

Little  remains  to  be  said  of  Basedow.  He  lived 
chiefly  at  Dessau,  earning  his  subsistence  by  private 
tuition,  and  giving  great  offense  by  his  irregularities, 
especially  by  drinking.  In  1790,  when  visiting  Mag- 
deburg, he  died,  after  a  short  illness,  in  his  sixty- 
seventh  year.  His  last  words  were,  "  I  wish  my  body 
to  be  dissected  for  the  good  of  my  fellow-creatures." 


VII. 

PESTALOZZI. 


John  Henry  Pestalozzi,  the  most  celebrated  of 

educational  reformers,  was  born  at  Zurich,  in  1746. 
At  six  years  old  he  lost  his  father,  who,  leaving  liis 
family  in  needy  circumstances^  implored  their  servant, 
*'  the  faithful  Babeli,"  never  to  desert  his  wife  and 
children.  Babeli  kept  sacredly  the  promise  she  gave 
to  the  dying  man,  and  she  had  an  equal  share  with  the 
mother  in  bringing  up  the  great  educator. 

With  no  companions  of  his  own  age,  Pestalozzi  be- 
came so  completely  a  mother's  child,  that,  as  he  him- 
self tells  us,  he  grew  up  a  stranger  to  the  world  he 
lived  in.  This  lonely  childhood  had  its  influence  in 
making  him,  what  he  remained  through  life,  a  man 
of  excitable  feelings  and  lively  imagination,  which  so 
entirely  had  the  mastery  over  him  as  to  prevent  any- 
thing like  due  circumspection  and  forethought.* 

From  his  grandfather,  a  country  clerg3'man,  with 
whom  he  often  stayed,  he  received  another  important 
influence,  strong  religious  impressions. 

♦This  will  be  best  understood  from  the  following  anecdote 
When,  in  after  jears,  he  was  in  great  pecuniary  distress,  and  his 
family  were  without  the  necessaries  of  life,  he  went  to  a  friend's 
house  and  borrowed  a  sum  of  money.  On  his  way  home,  he  fell  in 
with  a  peasant  who  was  lamenting  the  loss  of  a  cow.  Carried  away 
as  usual  by  his  feelings,  Pestalozzi  gave  the  man  all  the  money  he 
had  borrowed,  and  ran  away  to  escape  his  thanks. 

(157) 


158  PESTALOZZI. 


When  at  length  he  was  sent  to  a  day-school,  he 
proved  the  avvkwardest  and  most  helpless  of  the 
scholars,  and  nevertheless  showed  signs  of  rare  abili- 
ties. Among  his  playmates  he  was  exposed  to  a  good 
deal  of  ridicule,  and  was  dubbed  by  them  Harry 
Oddity  of  Foolborough,  but  his  good  nature  and 
obliging  disposition  gained  him  many  friends.  No 
doubt  his  friends  profited  from  his  willingness  to  do 
anything  for  them.  We  find  that  when,  on  the  shock 
of  an  earthquake,  teachers  and  scholars  alike  rushed 
out  of  the  school-house,  Harry  Oddity  was  the  boy 
sent  back  to  fetch  out  caps  and  books.  In  school- 
work,  he  says  that  though  one  of  the  best  boys  in 
the  school,  he  often  made  mistakes  which  even  the 
worst  boys  were  not  guilty  of.  He  could  understand 
the  sense  of  what  he  was  taught,  and  content  with  this, 
he  neglected  the  form  and  the  exercises  necessary  to 
give  him  a  practical  acquaintance  with  the  subject. 

As  he  grew  up,  the  unpractical  side  of  his  charac- 
ter was  more  and  more  strongly  developed.  To  use 
his  own  words,  "  Unfortunately,  the  tone  of  public  in- 
struction in  my  native  town  at  this  period  was  in  a 
high  degree  calculated  to  foster  this  visionary  fancy  of 
takingan  active  interest  in,  and  believing  oneself  capa- 
ble of,  the  practice  of  things  in  which  one  had  by  no 
means  sufficient  exercise.  While  we  were  yet  boys, 
we  fancied  that  by  a  superficial  school-acquaintance 
with  the  great  civil  life  of  Greece  and  Rome,  we  could 
eminently  prepare  ourselves  for  the  little  civil  life  in 
one  of  the  Swiss  cantons.  B3'  the  writings  of  Rousseau 
this  tendency  was  increased — a  tendency  which  was 
neither  calculated   to  preserve  what  was  good  in  the 


HIS   YOUTH.  159 


old  institutions,  nor  to  introduce  any  thing  substantially 
better." 

Lavater,  when  a  young  man  of  twenty,  formed  a 
league  which  was  joined  by  Pestalozzi,  a  lad  of  fifteen. 
This  league  brought  a  public  charge  of  injustice 
against  Grebel,  the  governor  of  the  Canton,  and 
against  Brunner,  the  mayor  of  Zurich.  They  also  de 
clared  themselves  against  unworthy  ministers  of  re 
ligion.  "The  hale  of  wrong  and  love  of  light," 
were,  with  Pestalozzi,  not  as  we  so  often  find  them, 
mere  juvenile  enthusiasms,  but  they  remained  with 
him  for  life.  The  oppression  of  the  peasants  moved 
him  to  a  strong  antagonism  against  the  aristocracy, 
and  when  he  was  no  longer  young,  he  spoke  of  them 
as  men  on  stilts,  who  must  descend  among  the  people 
before  they  could  secure  a  natural  and  firm  position. 
He  also  satirizes  them  in  some  of  his  fables,  as,  e.  g. 
that  of  tlie  "  Fishes  and  the  Pikes."  *'  The  fishes  in 
a  pond  brought  an  accusation  against  the  pikes  who 
were  making  great  ravages  among  them.  The  judge, 
an  old  pike,  said  that  their  complaint  was  well  founded, 
and  that  the  defendants,  to  make  amends,  should 
allow  two  ordinary  fish  every  year  to  become  pikes." 

His  desire  to  be  the  champion  of  the  ill-used 
peasantry,  determined  him  in  the  choice  of  a  profes- 
sion, and  he  took  to  the  study  of  the  law.  He  Ifhd 
been  intended  for  a  clergyman,  and,  according  to  one 
account,  had  actually  preached  a  trial  sermon,  which 
was  a  failure  :  with  his  usual  inaccuracy,  he  even  went 
wrong  in  repeating  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

Whilst  a  law  student,  he  lost  his  most  intimate 
friend,  Bluntschli,  who  died  of  consumption.  Blunt- 
Bchli  showed  that  he  thoroughly  understood  Pesta* 


l6o  PESTALOZZI. 


lozzi's  character  by  his  parting  advice  to  him  :  "  I  die," 
said  he  ;  "and  when  you  are  left  to  yourself,  you  must 
not  plunge  into  any  career  which,  from  your  good- 
natured  and  confiding  disposition,  might  become  dan- 
gerous tc  you.  Seek  for  a  quiet,  tranquil  career  ;  and 
unlesp  3'ou  have  at  your  side  a  man  who  will  faithfully 
as.sist  3'ou  with  a  calm,  dispassionate  knowledge  of 
men  and  things,  by  no  means  embark  in  any  exten- 
sive undertaking  the  failure  of  which  would  in  any 
way  be  perilous  to  you." 

Soon  after  this,  Pestalozzi,  from  over-study,  or 
rather  perhaps  from  over-speculation — for  he  employed 
himself  rather  in  forming  theories  of  what  should  be 
than  in  acquiring  a  practical  acquaintance  with  the 
law  as  it  was — became  dangerously  ill.  The  doctor 
advised  him  to  go  into  the  country,  and  influenced  not 
more  by  this  advice  than  by  Rousseau's  doctrine  of  the 
natural  state,  Pestalozzi  renounced  the  study  of  books, 
burnt  his  MSS.,  and  went  to  learn  farming. 

In  his  new  employment  he  found  himself  with  a- 
friend  of  progress.  "I  had  come  to  him,"  says  Pesta- 
lozzi, "a  political  visionary,  though  with  many  pro- 
found and  correct  attainments,  views,  and  anticipations 
in  political  matters.  I  went  away  from  him  just  as 
great  an  agricultural  visionary,  though  with  many  en- 
larged and  correct  ideas  and  intentions  with  regard  to 
agriculture." 

A  rich  ZuVich  firm  was  persuaded  by  Pestalozzi 
that  the  cultivation  of  madder  would  succeed  on  some 
poor  land  which  was  to  be  sold  near  the  village  of 
Birr  at  a  very  small  price.  With  money  advanced 
by  them,  he  bought  the  land,  built  a  house,  which  he 
called  Neuhof  (New  Farm),  and  set  to  work.     This 


AN   ODD    LOVK-LETTER.  l6l 

was. in  1767,  when  he  was  only  just  of  age.  He  was, 
of  course,  in  love,  and  the  lady  belonged  to  a  rich 
family.  The  following  letter,  which  he  addressed  to 
her,  has  a  double  interest;  it  gives  us  an  insight  into 
the  noble  character,  as  well  as  the  weaknesses,  of  thf 
writer,  and  is,  moreover,  one  of  the  most  singulai 
love-letters  in  existence. 

After  telling  her  that  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  limit 
his  visits  to  her,  as  he  had  not  the  slightest  ability 
to  conceal  his  feelings,  he  proposes  a  correspondence, 
in  which  "we  shall  make  our  undisguised  thoughts 
known  to  each  other  with  all  the  freedom  of  oral  con- 
versation. Yes,"  he  continues,  "I  will  open  myself 
fully  and  freely  to  you ;  I  will  even  now,  with  the 
greatest  candor,  let  you  look  as  deep  into  my  heart 
as  I  am  myself  able  to  penetrate ;  I  will  show  you  mv 
views  in  the  light  of  my  present  and  future  condition, 
as  clearly  as  I  see  them  myself.  Dearest  Schultheiss. 
those  of  my  faults  which  appear  to  me  most  im 
portent  in  relation  to  the  situation  in  which  I  may 
be  placed  in  after-life  are,  improvidence,  incautious- 
ness,  and  a  want  of  presence  of  mind  to  meet  un- 
expected changes  in  my  prospects.  I  know  not  how 
far  these  failings  may  be  diminished  by  my  efforts  to 
counteract  them  by  calm  judgment  and  experience. 
At  present,  I  have  them  still  in  such  a  degree  that  I 
dare  not  conceal  them  from  the  maiden  I  love  ;  they 
are  faults,  my  dear,  which  deserve  your  fullest  con- 
sideration. I  have  other  faults,  arising  from  my 
irritability  and  sensitiveness,  which  oftentimes  will 
not  submit  to  my  judgment.  I  very  frequently  allow 
myself  to  run  into  excesses  in  praising  and  blaming, 
in  my  liking  and  disliking ;  I  cleave  so  strongly  to 
14 


x62  PESTALOZZI. 


many  things  which  I  possess  that  the  force  with 
wliich  I  feel  myself  attached  to  them  often  exceeds 
the  bounds  of  reason.  Whenever  my  country  or  my 
friend  is  unhappy,  I  am  myself  unhappy.  Direct 
your  attention  to  this  weakness.  There  will  be  times 
when  the  cheerfulness  and  tranquillity  of  my  soul 
will  suffer  under  it.  If  even  it  does  not  hinder  me  in 
the  discharge  of  my  duties,  yet  I  shall  scarcely  ever 
be  great  enough  to  fulfill  them  in  such  adverse  cir- 
cumstances with  the  cheerfulness  and  tranquillity  of 
a  wise  man  who  is  ever  true  to  himself.  Of  my 
great,  and  indeed  very  reprehensible,  negligence  in 
all  matters  of  etiquette,  and  generally  in  all  matters 
which  are  not  in  themselves  of  importance,  I  need 
not  speak ;  any  one  may  see  them  at  first  sight  of 
me.  I  also  owe  you  the  open  confession,  my  dear, 
that  I  shall  always  consider  my  duties  toward  my 
beloved  partner  subordinate  to  my  duties  toward  my 
country  ;  and  that,  although  I  shall  be  the  tenderest 
husband,  nevertheless  I  hold  myself  bound  to  be  in- 
exorable to  the  tears  of  my  wife  if  she  should  ever 
attempt  to  restrain  me  by  them  from  the  direct  per- 
formance of  my  duties  as  a  citizen,  whatever  this 
must  lead  to.  My  wife  shall  be  the  confidante  of  my 
heart,  the  partner  of  all  my  most  secret  counsels.  A 
great  and  honest  simplicity  shall  reign  in  my  house. 
\nd  one  thing  more.  My  life  will  not  pass  without 
mportant  and  very  critical  undertakings.  I  shall 
lot  forget  the  precepts  of  Menalk,  and  my  first  reso- 
.utions  to  devote  myself  wholly  to  my  country.  I 
shall  never,  from  fear  of  man,  refrain  from  speaking 
when  I  see  that  the  good  of  my  country  calls  upon- 
me  to  speak.     My  whole  heart  is  my  country's :  I 


HIS   MARRIAGE.  163 


will  risk  all  to  alleviate  the  need  and  misery  of  my 
fellow-countrymen.  What  consequences  may  the  un- 
dertakings to  which  I  feel  myself  urged  on  draw  after 
ihem  '■  how  unequal  to  them  am  1 1  and  how  impera- 
tive is  my  duty  to  show  you  the  possibility  of  the  great 
dangers  w)i:ch  they  ma}'  bring  upon  me  ! 

"  My  dear,  my  beloved  friend,  I  have  now  spoken 
candidly  of  my  character  and  my  aspirations.  Re- 
flect upon  everything.  If  the  traits  which  it  was  my 
duty  to  mention  diminish  your  respect  for  me,  you  will 
still  esteem  my  sincerity,  and  you  will  not  think  less 
highly  of  me,  that  I  did  not  take  advantage  of  your 
want  of  acquaintance  with  my  character  for  the  at- 
tainment of  my  inmost  wishes." 

The  young  lady  addressed  was  worthy  of  the  letter 
and  of  its  writer.  In  1769,  two  years  after  Pes- 
talozzi  had  established  himself  at  Neuhof,  the 
marriage  took  place — an  unequal  match,  as  it  then 
seemed,  the  bride  having  money  and  personal  attrac- 
tions, and  the  bridegroom  being  notably  deficient  in 
both  respects.  Their  married  life  extended  over 
fifty  years,  and  during  that  period  the  forebodings  of 
the  letter  were  amply  realized.  Pestalozzi  sacri- 
ficed the  comfort  and  worldly  prospects  of  his  family 
equally  with  his  own  to  the  public  good,  and  yet  we 
may 'well  believe  that  Madame  Pestalozzi  never  re- 
pented of  her  choice. 

The  new  married  couple  were  soon  in  difficulties. 
The  Zurich  firm,  not  satisfied  with  the  rumors  which 
reached  them  of  the  management  of  the  madder  plan- 
tation, sent  two  competent  judges  to  examine  into  the 
state  of  afiairs,  and  so  unfavorable  was  their  report, 
that  the  firm  preferred  getting  back  what  money  they 


164  PESTALOZZi. 


could  to  leaving  it  any  longer  in  Pestalozzi's  hands. 
*'  The  cause  .of  the  failure  of  my  undertaking,"  says 
Vestalozzi,  "  lay  essentially  and  exclusively  in  myself, 
and  in  my  pronounced  incapacity  for  every  kind  of 
undertaking  which  requires  practical  ability."  By 
means  of  his  wife's  property,  however,  he  was  enabled 
to  go  on  with  his  farming. 

Pestalozzi  now  resolved  on  an  experiment  such  as 
Bluntschli  had  warned  him  against,  and  such  as  he 
himself  must  have  had  in  his  mind  when  he  wrote 
his  love-letter.  Some  years  before  this,  he  had  had 
his  attention  drawn  to  the  subject  of  education  by  the 
publication  of  Rousseau's  "  £mile."  Feeling  deeply 
the  degradation  of  the  surrounding  peasantry,  he 
looked  for  some  means  of  raising  them  out  of  it, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  most  hopeful  way  was 
to  begin  witii  the  young,  and  to  train  them  to  capacity 
and  intelligence.  He  therefore,  in  1775,  started  a 
poor  school.  He  soon  had  fifty  children  sent  him, 
whom  he  housed,  boarded,  and  clothed,  without  pay- 
ment from  the  parents.  The  children  were  to  work 
for  their  maintenance,  during  summer  in  the  fields,  in 
winter  at  spinning  and  other  handicrafts.  Pestalozzi 
Iiimself  was  the  schoolmaster,  Neuhof  was  the  school- 
house. 

In  this  new  enterprise  Pestalozzi  was  still  •mort 
unsuccessful  than  he  had  been  in  growing  the  mad- 
der. He  was  very  badly  treated  both  by  parents  and 
v,hildren,  the  latter  often  running  away  directly  they 
got  new  clothes ;  and  his  industrial  experiments  were 
so  carried  on  that  they  were  a  source  of  expense  rather 
than  profit.  He  says  himself,  that,  contrary  to  his 
oyvn  principles,  which  should  have  led  him  to  begin  at 


IN   DISTRESS.  165 


the  beginning  and  lay  a  good  foundation  in  teaching, 
he  put  the  children  to  work  that  was  too  difficult  for 
them,  wanted  tliein  to  spin  fine  thread  before  their 
hands  got  steadiness  and  skill  by  exercise  on  the 
coarser  kind,  and  to  manufacture  muslin  before  the} 
could  turn  out  well-made  cotton  goods.  "  Before  1 
was  aware  of  it,"  he  adds,  "  I  was  deej)Iy  involved  in 
debt,  and  the  greater  part  of  my  dear  wife's  property 
and  expectations  had,  as  it  were,  in  an  instant  gone  up 
in  smoke." 

We  have  now  come  to  the  most  gloomy  period  in 
Pestalozzi's  history,  a  period  of  eighteen  years,  and 
those  the  best  years  in  a  man's  life,  which  Pestalozzi 
spent  in  great  distress,  from  poverty  without,  and 
doubt  and  despondency  within.  When  he  got  into 
difficulties,  his  friends,  he  tells  us,  loved  him  without 
hope  :  "  in  the  whole  surrounding  district  it  was  every- 
where said  that  I  was  a  lost  man,  that  nothing  more 
could  be  done  for  me."  "  In  his  only  too  elegant 
country-house,"  we  are  told,  '*  he  often  wanted  money, 
bread,  fuel,  to  protect  himself  against  hunger  and 
cold."  "  Eighteen  years  1 — what  a  time  for  a  soul  like 
his  to  wait  1  History  passes  lightly  over  such  a 
period.  Ten,  twenty,  thirty  years — it  makes  but  a 
cipher  difference  if  nothing  great  happens  in  them* 
But  with  what  agony  must  he  have  seen  day 
after  day,  year  after  year  gliding  by,  who  in  hia 
fervent  soul  longed  to  labor  for  the  good  of  man 
kind  and  yet  looked  in  vain  for  the  opportunity  I 
(Palmer.) 

In  after  years  he  thus  wrote  of  this  gloomy  period : 
*'  Deep  dissatisfaction  was  gnawing  my  heart.  Eter- 
nal trum  and  eternal  rectitude  were  converted  by  my 


1 66  PESTALOZZI. 


passion  to  airy  castles.  With  a  hardened  mind,  1 
clung  stubbornly  to  mere  sounds,  which  had  losi 
within  me  the  basis  of  truth.  Thus  1  degraded  my- 
self every  day  more  and  more  with  the  worship  of 
commonplace  and  the  trumpetings  of  those  quack- 
eries, wherewith  these  modern  times  pretend  to  better 
the  condition  of  mankind."  Again  he  says,  "  My 
head  was  gray,  yet  I  was  still  a  child.  With  a  iieart 
in  which  all  the  foundations  of  life  were  shaken,  1 
still  pursued,  in  those  stormy  times,  my  favorite  object, 
but  my  way  was  one  of  prejudice,  of  passion,  and  of 
error." 

But  these  years  were  not  spent  in  idleness.  Having 
no  other  means  of  influence,  and  indeed  no  other  em- 
ployment, he  took  to  writing,  and  his  experience  as  a 
teacher  stood  him  in  good  stead  as  an  author.  In 
1780  appeared,  though  not  as  a  separate  publication, 
the  "  Evening  Hour  of  a  Hermit."  To  this  series  of 
aphorisms  Pestalozzi  appealed  many  years  afterward 
to  prove  that  he  had  always  held  the  same  views 
which  he  subsequently  tried  to  carry  out  in  practice."* 

We  hardly  know  how  to  reconcile  the  calm  faith 
which  is  shown  in  the  "Evening  Hour"  with  what 
Pestalozzi  has  told  us  of  his  frame  of  mind  at  this 
period,  and  with  the  fact  that  he  joined  a  French  rev- 
olutionary society — the  lUuminati — and  became  their 
leader  in  Switzerland.  He  did  not,  however,  con- 
tinue long  with  them  ;  and  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
reconciling  the  "Evening  Hour"  with  all  that  we 
know  of  Pestalozzi  in  later  life. 

In  1 781  appeared  the  book  on  which  Pestalozzi'a 

•  I  have  given  some  extracts  in  Appendix,  p.  311. 


HIS   WRITINGS.  167 

fame  as  an  author  mainly  rests — '•  Leonard  and 
Gertrude" — a  work  extorted  from  liim,  as  he  says, 
by  sympathy  with  the  sufferings  of  the  people.  In 
this  simple  tale — which  *' flowed  from  his  pen,  he 
knew  not -how,  and  developed  itself  of  its  own  ac- 
cord"— we  iiave  an  admirable  picture  of  village  life 
in  Switzerland.  No  wonder  that  the  Berne  Agri- 
cultural Society  sent  the  author  a  gold  medal,  with 
a  letter  of  thanks ;  and  that  the  book  excited  vast 
interest,  both  in  its  native  country  and  throughout 
Germany.  It  is  only  strange  that  '*  Leonard  and 
Gertrude "  has  not  become  a  favorite,  by  means 
of  translations,  in  other  countries.  There  was,  in- 
deed, an  English  translation,  in  two  volumes, 
published  more  than  fifty  years  ago ;  but  this 
forerunner  of  the  tales  of  Gotthelf  is  now  hardly 
known  in  this  country,  even  by  nkme.  In  the 
works  of  a  great  artist,  we  see  natural  objects  rep- 
resented with  perfect  fidelity,  and  yet  with  a  life 
breathed  into  them  by  genius  which  is  wanting,  or  at 
least  is  not  visible  to  common  eyes,  in  the  originals. 
Just  so  do  we  find  Swiss  peasant  life  depicted  by  Pes- 
talozzi.  The  delineation  is  evidently  true  to  nature : 
and,  at  the  same  time,  shows  Nature  as  she  reveals 
herself  to  genius.  But  for  this  work  something  more 
than  genius  was  necessary,  viz.,  sympathy  and  love. 
In  the  preface  to  the  first  edition,  he  says,  "  In  that 
which  I  here  relate,  and  which  I  have,  for  the  most 
part,  seen  and  heard  myself  in  the  course  of  an  active 
life,  I  have  taken  care  not  once  to  add  my  own  opinion 
to  what  I  saw  and  heard  the  people  themselves  saying, 
feeling,  believing,  judging,  and  allempting."  In  a 
later  edition  (1800)  he  says,  "  I  desired  nothing  then, 


f68  PESTALOZZI. 


and  I  desire  nothing  else  now,  as  the  object  of  my  life, 
but  the  welfare  of  the  people,  whom  I  love,  and  whom 
I  feel  to  be  miserable  as  few  feel  them  to  be  miserable, 
because  I  have  with  them  borne  their  sufferings  as 
few  have  borne  them." 

Pestalozzi's  friends  now  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  had  found  his  vocation  at  last,  and  that  it  was  novel- 
writing  ;  but,  throughout  Europe,  he  met  with  many 
more  discriminating  readers. 

During  his  residence  at  Neuhof,  where  he  continued 
to  drag  on  a  weary  and  depressed  existence  till  he  had 
been  there,  altogether,  thirty  years,  he  published 
several  works,  none  of  which  had  the  success  of 
"  Leonard  and  Gertrude."  In  1782  appeared  *'  Chris- 
topher and  Alice,"  and  in  1795  some  fables,  which  he 
called  "  Figures  to  my  ABC  Book."  But  the  work 
which  gave  its  author  most  trouble  to  compose,  on 
which,  he  says,  he  labored  for  three  long  years  with 
incredible  toil,  and  which,  when  it  did  appear,  was 
doomed  to  the  most  complete  neglect,  was  his  '*  Re- 
searches into  the  Course  of  Nature  in  the  Develop- 
ment of  the  Human  Race." 

The  consequences  of  the  French  Revolution  called 
Pestalozzi  from  his  philosophical  speculations.  French 
•.roop'j'  poured  into  Switzerland.  Everything  was  re- 
modeled after  the  French  pattern.  The  government 
was  placed  in  the  hands  of  five  Directors,  according 
to  the  phase  which  the  supreme  power  had  then 
(1798)  taken  in  the  model  country.  Pestalozzi  avowed 
himself  the  champion  of  the  new  order  of  things, 
and  his  pen  was  at  once  employed  by  the  Directors. 
These  men  had  not,  however,  the  discernment  of 
Lavater,  who  once  told  Madame  Pestalozzi,  •'  I  would 


AS   A   SCHOOLMASTER.  169 

consult  your  husband  in  everything  connected  with 
the  condition  of  the  people,  though  I  would  never 
intrust  him  with  a  farthing  of  money."  By  the  Di- 
rectors, Peslalozzi  was  'not  consulted  at  all.  "  I 
wished  for  nothing,"  he  said,  "  but  that  the  sources  of 
the  savage  and  degraded  state  of  the  people  might 
be  stopped,  and  the  evils  flowing  from  them  arrested. 
The  Novi  Homines  of  Helvetia,  whose  wishes  went 
further,  and  who  had  no  knowledge  of  the  condition 
of  the  people,  found,  of  course,  that  I  was  not  the 
man  for  them.  They  look,  every  straw  for  a  mast, 
by  which  they  might  sail  the  Republic  to  a  safe 
shore  ;  but  me,  me  alone,  they  took  for  a  straw  not 
fit  for  a  fly  to  cling  to.  They  did  me  good,  however 
— more  good  than  any  men  have  ever  done  me — they 
restored  me  to  myself."  It  was  thought  that  he  had 
espoused  their  cause  to  secure  for  himself  some 
Government  appointment,  and  the  Directors  asked 
him  what  he  would  be.  His  answer  was,  "I  will  be 
a  schoolmaster"  —  an  answer  which  probably  con- 
firmed his  friends  in  the  opinion  they  had  before  ex- 
pressed, that  he  would  end  his  days  either  in  the 
poor-house  or  the  mad-house. 

Among  the  directors  was  Le  Grand,  who  entered 
into  Pestalozzi's  views,  and  at  once  placed  at  his  dis- 
posal the  means  of  opening  a  school  in  Aargau :  but 
events  occurred  which  led  him  to  another  sphere  of 
labor,  and  caused  him  to  undertake  a  much  more  diffi- 
cult task.  The  Catholic  and  democratic  canton  of 
Unterwalden  did  not  accept  the  changes  which  the 
French  introduced.  It  was  consequently  invaded  by 
a  French  army,  many  of  the  iniiabitants  were  killed, 
and  Stanz,  the  capital,  was  pillaged  and  burnt.    These 


i^O  PESTALOZZt. 

Strong  measures  of  their  allies  were  in  secret  disap- 
proved of  by  the  Swiss  Directors,  who  were,  therefore, 
anxious  to  do  what  they  could  to  relieve  the  sufferings 
of  their  fellow-countrymen.'  Le  Grand  proposed  to 
Pestalozzi  to  give  up  his  other  plans  for  the  present, 
and  to  go  to  Stanz  and  take  charge  of  the  orphan  and 
destitute  children  there.  Pestalozzi  was  not  the  man 
to  refuse  such  a  task  as  this.  "I  went,"  he  writes. 
"I  would  have  gone  into  the  remotest  clefts  of  the 
mountains  to  come  nearer  my  aim,  and  now  I  really 
did  come  nearer." 

He  established  himself  with  no  assistants,  and  with 
only  one  servant,  in  a  convent  which  was  building  for 
the  Ursulines.  There  was  but  one  room  fit  for  occu- 
pation when  he  arrived.  Children  came  flocking  in, 
many  of  whom  were  orphans,  and  could  not  be  other- 
wise provided  for.  The  one  room  became  a  school- 
room and  a  dormitory  for  Pestalozzi  and  as  many 
children  as  it  would  hold.  There  were  soon  eighty 
under  Pestalozzi's  charge  during  the  day,  some  of  the 
neighbors  taking  in  children  to  sleep.  Of  the  eighty, 
many  were  beggar  children,  not  accustomed  to  any 
control,  vicious  in  their  habits,  and  afflicted  with  loath- 
some diseases.  Those  who  had  been  better  off  were 
helpless  and  exacting.  And  for  all  these  Pestalozzi, 
then  over  fifty  years  of  age,  undertook  the  manage- 
ment, the  clothing,  feeding,  teaching,  and  even  the 
performance  of  tlie  most  menial  offices.  The  parents, 
who  looked  upon  him  as  the  paid  official  of  a  hated 
Government,  and,  moreover,  distrusted  him  as  a 
Protestant,  annoyed  him  in  every  way  they  could,  and 
encouraged  the  children  in  disorder  and  discontent. 
And  yet  the  Protestant  was  giving  an  example  of  love 


AT  STANZ.  171 

and  self-sacrifice  worthy  of  the  noblest  saint  in  the 
Calendar.  This  love  did  not  lose  its  reward.  By  de- 
grees it  gained  him  the  affection  of  the  children,  and 
introduced  harmony  and  order  into  the  chaos  which 
at  first  surrounded  him. 

The  very  disadvantages  in  which  he  was  placed 
drove  him  to  discoveries  he  would  never  otherjyise  have 
made.  His  whole  school  apparatus  consisted  of  him- 
self and  his  pupils ;  so  he  studied  the  children  them- 
selves, their  wants  and  capacities.  "I  stood  in  the 
midst  of  them,"  he  says,  "pronouncing  various  sounds, 
and  asking  the  children  to  imitate  tliem.  Whoever 
saw  it  was  struck  with  the  effect.  It  is  true  it  was  like  a 
meteor  which  vanishes  in  the  air  as  soon  as  it  appears. 
No  one  understood  its  nature.  I  did  not  understand 
it  myself.  It  was  the  result  of  a  simple  idea,  or  rather, 
of  a  fact  of  human  nature,  which  was  revealed  to  my 
feelings,  but  of  which  I  was  far  from  having  a  clear 
consciousness."  Again  he  says,  "  Being  obliged  to 
instruct  the  children  by  myself,  without  any  assistance, 
I  learnt  the  art  of  teaching  a  great  number  together; 
and  as  I  had  no  other  means  of  bringing  the  instruc- 
tion  before  them  than  that  of  pronouncing  everything 
to  them  loudly  and  distinctly,  I  was  naturally  led  to 
the  idea  of  making  them  draw,  write,  or  work  all  at 
the  same  time. 

"  The  confusion  of  so  many  voices  repeating  my 
words  suggested  the  necessity  of  keeping  time  in  our 
exercises,  and  I  soon  found  that  this  contributed 
materially  to  make  their  impressions  stronger  and 
more  distinct.  Their  total  ignorance  tbrced  me  t(» 
dwell  a  long  time  on  the  simplest  elements,  and  I 
was  thus  led  to  perceive  how  much   higher  a  degree 


172  PESTALOZZI. 

of  interest  and  power  is  obtained  by  a  persevering 
attention  to  the  elemental y  parts  until  they  be  per- 
fectly familiar  to  the  mind ;  and  what  confidence 
and  interest  the  child  is  inspired  with  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  complete  and  perfect  attainment,  even 
in  the  lowest  stage  of  instruction.  Never  before  had 
I  so  deeply  felt  the  important  bearing  which  the  first 
elements  of  every  branch. of  knowledge  have  upon  its 
complete  outline,  and  what  immense  deficiencies  in 
the  final  result  of  it  must  arise  from  the  confusion 
and  imperfection  of  the  simplest  beginnings.  To 
bring  these  to  maturity  and  perfection  in  the  child's 
mind  became  now  a  main  object  of  my  attention ; 
and  the  success  far  surpassed  my  expectations.  The 
consciousness  of  energies  hitherto  unknown  to  them- 
selves was  rapidly  developed  in  the  children,  and  a 
general  sense  of  order  and  harmony  began  to  prevail 
among  them.  They  felt  their  own  powers,  and  the 
tediousness  of  the  common  school  tone  vanished  like 
a  specter  from  the  room.  They  were  determined  to 
try,  they  succeeded  ;  they  persevered,  they  accom- 
plished and  were  delighted.  Their  mood  was  not 
that  of  laborious  learning,  it  was  the  joy  of  un- 
known powers  aroused  from  sleep ;  their  hearts  and 
minds  were  elevated  by  the  anticipation  of  what 
their  powers  would  enable  them  to  attempt  and  to 
effect." 

Of  course  his  first  difficulty  was  to  arrest  the 
attention  of  a  great  number  of  children.  This  he 
overcame  by  appealing  to  their  senses.  Combining 
this  experience  with  the  ideas  he  had  received  many 
years  before  from  Rousseau,  he  invented  h  s  system 
or  object -lessons.      He  was  also  driven  by  his  needs 


HTS   TEACHING.  I73 


to  something  like  a  system  of  monitors,  though  in  an 
informal  way.  If  a  child  was  found  to  know  anytliing 
he  was  put  between  two  others  to  whom  he  might 
teach  it. 

Thus,  during  the  short  period,  not  more  than  a 
year,  wliich  Pestalozzi  spent  among  the  children  al 
Slanz,  lie  settled  the  main  features  of  the  Pestalozzian 
system. 

Sickness  broke  out  among  the  children,  and  the 
wear  and  tear  was  too  great  even  for  Pestalozzi. 
He  would  probably  have  sunk  under  his  efforts  if  the 
French,  pressed  by  the  Austrians,  had  not  entered 
Stanz,  in  January,  1799,  and  taken  part  of  the 
Ursuline  Convent  for  a  military  hospital.  Pestalozzi 
was,  therefore,  obliged  to  break  up  the  school,  and 
he  himself  went  to  a  medicinal  spring  on  the  Gur- 
nigel  in  the  Canton  Bern.  "  Here,"  he  says,  "  I  en- 
joyed days  of  recreation.  I  needed  them.  It  is  a 
•wonder  that  I  am  still  alive.  I  shall  not  forget  those 
days  as  long  as  I  live;  they  saved  me:  but  I  could 
not  live  without  my  work."  He  came  down  from  the 
Gurnigel,  and  began  to  teach  in  the  primary  schools 
(i.  e.,  schools  for  children  from  four  to  eight  years  old) 
of  Burgdorf,  the  second  town  in  the  Canton.  Here 
the  director  was  jealous  of  him,  and  he  met  with  much 
opposition.  "  It  was  whispered,"  he  tells  us,  "  that  I 
myself  could  not  write  nor  work  accounts,  nor  even 
read  properly.  Popular  reports,"  he  adds,  "  are  not 
always  entirely  wrong.  It  is  true  I  could  not  write 
nor  read  nor  work  accounts  well." 

A  strange  account  has  been  left  us  of  his  teaching 
in  the  school  by  Ramsauer,  then  a  scholar  in  it,  and 
afterward  one  of  Pestalozzi's  assistants  : — 


174  PESTALOZZI. 

*'  I  got  about  as  much  regular  schooling  as  the  other 
scholars,"  he  writes — that  is,  none  at  all ;  "  but  Pesta- 
lozzi's  sacred  zeal,  his  devoted  love,  which  caused  him 
to  be  entirely  unmindful  of  himself,  his  serious  and 
depressed  state  of  mind,  which  struck  even  the  chil* 
dren,  made  the  deepest  impression  on  me,  and  knil 
my  childlike  and  grateful  heart  to  his  forever.  Pes- 
talozzi's  intention  was,  that  all  the  instruction  given  in 
this  school  should  start  from  form,  number,  and  lan- 
guage, and  should  have  constant  reference  to  these 
elements.  There  was  no  regular  plan,  not  any  time- 
table. He  taught  nothing  but  drawing,  ciphering, 
and  exercises  in  language.  .  .  .  He  had  not 
patience  to  allow  things  to  be  gone  over  a  second  time, 
or  to  put  questions  (in  arithmetic),  and  in  his  enormous 
zeal  for  the  instruction  of  the  whole  school,  he  seemed 
not  to  concern  himself  in  the  slightest  degree  for  the 
individual  scholar.  The  best  things  we  had  with  him 
were  the  exercises  in  language,  at  least  those  which* 
he  gave  us  on  the  paper-hangings  of  the  school-room, 
which  were  real  exercises  in  observation.  '  Boys,' 
he  would  say  (he  never  named  the  girls),  'what  do 
you  see?'  Answer — 'A  hole  in  the  wainscot.'  Pes- 
talozzi — '  Very  good.  Now  repeat  after  me — I  see 
a  hole  in  the  wainscot.  I  see  a  long  hole  in  the  wain- 
scot. Thiough  the  hole  I  see  the  wall.  Through  the 
long  narrow  hole  I  see  the  wall,'  and  so  forth.  As 
Pestalozzi,  in  his  zeal,  did  not  tie  iiimself  to  any  par- 
ticular time,  we  generally  went  on  until  eleven  o'clock 
with  whatever  we  had  commenced  at  eight,  and  by 
ten  o'clock  he  was  always  tired  and  hoarse.  We 
knew  wiien  it  was  eleven  by  the  noise  of  the  other 


THE    INSTITUTE   AT   YVERDUN.  I75 


school  children  in  the  street,  and  then  we  usually  all 
ran  out  without  bidding  good-bye." 

After  this  account  of  Pestalozzi's  instruction,  we 
can  hardly  wonder  that  the  school  rector  at  Burgdorf 
was  not  grateful  for  his  assistance. 

In  less  than  a  year  Pestalozzi  left  this  school  in 
bad  health,  and  joined  Krusi  in  opening  a  new 
school  in  Burgdorf  Castle,  for  which  he  afterward 
(1802)  obtained  Government  aid.  Here  he  was  as- 
sisted in  carrying  out  his  system  by  Krusi,  Tobler, 
and  Bluss.  He  now  embodied  the  results  of  his  ex- 
perience in  a  work  which  has  obtained  great  celebrity — 
"How  Gertrude  Teaches  her  Children." 

In  t8o2  Pestalozzi,  for  once  in  his  life  a  successful 
and  popular  man,  was  elected  a  member  of  a  deputa- 
tion sent  by  the  Swiss  people  to  Paris. 

On  tlie  restoration  of  the  Cantons  in  1804,  the 
Castle  of  Burgdorf  was  again  occupied  by  one  of  the 
chief  magistrates,  and  Pestalozzi  and  his  establish- 
ment were  moved  to  the  Monastery  of  Buchvsee. 
Here  the  teachers  gave  the  principal  direction  to 
another,  the  since  celebrated  Fellenberg,  "not  with- 
out my  consent,"  says  Pestalozzi,  "but  to  my  profound 
mortification."  He  therefore  soon  accepted  an  invi- 
tation from  the  inhabitants  of  Yverdun  to  open  an 
institution  there,  and  within  a  twelvemonth  he  wa 
followed  by  his  old  assistants,  who  had  found  govern* 
ment  by  Fellenberg  less  to  their  taste  than  no-govern 
menl  by  Pestalozzi. 

The  Yverdun  Institute  had  soon  a  world-wide  repu 
tation.     Pestalozzian  teachers  went  from  it  to  Madrid, 
to  Naples,  to  St.  Petersburg.     Kings  and  philosophers 
joined  in  doing  it  fionor.     But,  as  Pestalozzi  himself 


176  PESTALOZZl. 

has  testified,  these  praises  were  but  as  a  laurel-wreath 
encircling  a  skull.  The  life  of  the  Pestalozzian  in 
stitutions  had  been  the  love  which  the  old  man  had 
infused  into  all  the  members,  teachers  as  well  as  chil- 
dren ;  but  this  life  was  wanting  at  Yverdun.  The  es 
tablishment  was  much  too  large  to  be  carried  on 
successfully  without  more  method  and  discipline  than 
Pestalozzi,  remarkable,  as  he  himself  says,  for  his 
"uniivaled  incapacity  to  govern,"  was  master  of. 
The  assistants  began  each  to  take  his  own  line,  and 
even  the  outward  show  of  unity  was  soon  at  an  end. 
Nothing  is  less  interesting  or  profitable  than  the  details 
of  bygone  quarrels,  so  I  will  not  go  into  the  great 
feud  between  Niederer  and  Schmid,  which  in  its  day 
made  a  good  deal  of  noise  in  the  scholastic  world,  as 
even  less  important  disputes  have  done  and  will  do  in 
the  world  at  large.  There  were,  too,  many  mistakes 
made  at  Yverdun.  Pestalozzi  was  mad  with  enthusi- 
asm to  improve  elementary  education,  especially  for 
the  poor,  throughout  Europe.  His  zeal  led  him  to 
announce  his  schemes  and  .methods  before  he  had 
given  them  a  fair  trial ;  hence  many  foolish  things 
came  abroad  as  Pestalozzianism,  and  hindered  the 
reception  of  principles  and  practices  which  better  de- 
served the  name.  Pestalozzi,  too,  unfortunately 
thought  that  his  influence  depended  on  the  opinion 
wliich  was  formed  of  his  institution  ;  so  he  published 
a  iiighly-colored  account  of  it,  and  tried  to  conceal 
its  defects  from  the  strangers  by  whom  he  was  con 
slantly  visited  (see  Appendix,  p.  313).  "His  highly 
active  imagination,"  sa3's  Raumer,  himself  for  some 
time  an  inmate  of  the  institution,  "led  him  to  see  and 
describe  as  actually  existing  whatever  he  hoped  sooner 


EARLY   EDUCATION.  I77 


or  later  to  realize."  The  enemies  of  change  made  the 
most  of  these  discrepancies,  and  this,  joined  with 
financial  difficulties  consequent  on  Pestalozzi's  mis- 
management, and  with  the  scandals  which  arose  out 
of  the  dissensions  of  the  Pestalozzians,  brought  his 
institution  to  a  speedy  and  unhonored  close. 

Thus  the  sun  went  down  in  clouds,  and  the  old 
man,  when  he  died  at  the  age  of  eighty,  in  1827,  had 
seen  the  apparent  failure  of  all  his  toils.  He  had  not, 
however,  failed  in  reality.  It  has  been  said  of  him 
that  his  true  function  was  to  educate  ideas,  not  chil- 
dren, and  when  twenty  years  later  the  centenary  of 
his  birth  was  celebrated  by  schoolmasters,  not  only 
in  his  native  country,  but  throughout  Germany,  it 
was  found  that  Pestalozzian  ideas  had  been  sown,  and 
were  bearing  fruit,  over  the  greater  part  of  central 
Europe. 


PESTALOZZIANISM. 


As  it  seems  to  the  present  writer,  the  worst  part  of 
our  educational  course — the  part  which  is  wrong  in 
tlicory  and  pernicious  in  practice — is  our  instruction 
of  children,  say  between  the  ages  of  seven  and  twelve. 
IJefore  seven  years  old,  there  is  often  no  formal  in- 
struction, and  perhaps  there  should  be  none.  Pesla- 
loz.zi  would  have  children  systematically  taught  from 
the  cradle  ;  but  I  can  not  help  doubting  the  wisdom, 
or  at  least  the  necessity  of  this.  Nature  offers  the 
succession  of  impressions  to  the  child's  senses  with- 


178  PESTALOZZIANISM. 


out  any  regular  order.  Art  should  come  to  her  assist- 
ance, says  Pestalozzi,  and  organize  a  connected  series 
of  such  impressions.  It  may  well  be  questioned, 
however,  if  the  child  will  be  benefited  by  being  put 
hrough  any  course  of  the  kind.  Lord  Lytton,  wittily, 
and  in  my  opinion  wisely,  applies  to  this  subject  the 
story  of  the  man  who  thought  his  bees  would  make 
honey  faster,  if  instead  of  going  in  search  of  flowers, 
they  were  shut  up  and  had  the  flowers  brought  to  them. 
The  way  in  which  children  turn  from  object  to  object, 
like  the  bees  from  flower  to  flower,  is  surely  an  indi- 
cation to  us  that  Nature  herself  teaches  at  this  age  by 
an  infinite  variety  of  impressions  which  we  should  no 
more  attempt  to  throw  into  what  we  call  regular  order 
than  we  should  employ  a  drill-sergeant  to  teach 
infants  to  walk.  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  that  there 
is  no  education  for  children,  however  young;  but 
'the  school  is  the  mother's  knee,  and  the  lessons 
learnt  there  are  other  and  more  valuable  than  object- 
lessons.* 

The  time  for  teaching,  technically  so  called,  comes 
at  last,  and  what  is  to  be  done  then  ?  Let  us  consider 
briefl}'^  what  t's  done. 

There  are  in  education  few  maxims  which  are  sc 
universally  accepted  as  this — that  education  is,  if 
not  wholly,  at  least  in  a  great  measure,  the  develop- 
ment of  faculties  rather  than  the  imparting  of  knowl- 
edge. On  this  principle  alone  is  it  possible  to 
justify  the  amount  of  time  given  by  the  higher  forms 
in  schools  and  by  undergraduates  at  the  Universities 
to  the  study  of  classics  and  mathematics.     In  all  the 

*  See,  however,  some  observations  of  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  on  the 
other  side. — EducaUon,  pp.  8i,  ff. 


DIFFERENCE    BETWEEN    CHILD    AND    YOUTH.      I79 

attempts  which  have  been  made  to  depreciate  these 
studies  no  one  of  any  authority  has  disputed  that,  if 
they  are  indeed  the  best  means  of  training  the  mind, 
they  should  be  maintained  in  their  present  monopoly, 
even  though  the  knowledge  acquired  were  sure  to 
drop  ofi',  "  like  the  tadpole's  tail,"  when  t!:e  scholars 
entered  on  the  business  of  life.  We  are  agreed,  then, 
that  in  youth  the  faculties  are  to  be  trained,  not  the 
knowledge  given,  for  adult  age.  But  when  we  come 
to  childhood  we  forget  this  principle  entirely,  and 
think  not  so  much  of  cultivating  the  faculties  for 
youth  as  of  communicating  the  knowledge  which  will 
then  come  in  useful.  We  see  clearly  enough  that  it 
would  be  absurd  to  cram  the  mind  of  a  youth  with 
laws  of  science  or  art  or  commerce  which  he  could 
not  understand,  on  the  ground  that  the  getting-up 
of  these  things  might  save  him  trouble  in  after-life. 
But  we  do  not  hesitate  to  sacrifice  childhood  to  the 
learning  by  heart  of  grammar-rules,  Latin  declen- 
sions, historical  dates,  and  the  like,  with  no  thought 
whatever  of  the  child's  (acuities,  but  simply  with  a 
view  of  giving  him  knowledge  (if  knowledge  it  can 
be  called)  that  will  come  in  useful  five  or  six  years 
alterward.  We  do  not  treat  youths  tlius,  probably 
because  we  have  more  sympathy  with  them,  or  at 
least  understand  them  better.  The  intellectual  life 
to  which  the  senses  and  the  imaginations  are  sub- 
ordinated in  the  man,  has  already  begun  in  tlie 
youth.  In  an  inferior  degree  he  can  do  what  the 
man  can  do,  and  understand  what  the  man  can 
understand.  He  has  already  some  notion  of  reason- 
ing, and  abstraction,  and  generalization.  But  with 
the    child  it  is  very   different.     His  active   faculties 


r8o  PESTALOZZIANISM. 


may  be  said  almost  to  differ  in  kind  from  a  man's. 
He  has  a  feeling  for  the  sensuous  world  which  he 
will  lose  as  he  grows  up.  His  strong  imagination, 
under  no  control  of  the  reason,  is  constantly  at  work 
building  castles  in  the  air,  and  investing  the  doll  or 
the  pup])et-show  with  all  the  properties  of  the  things 
they  represent.  His  feelings  and  affections,  easily 
excited,  find  an  object  to  love  or  dislike  in  every 
person  and  thing  he  meets  with.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  has  no  conception  of  what  is  abstract,  and  no  in- 
terest except  in  actual  known  persons,  animals,  anc 
things. 

There  is,  then,  between  the  child  of  nine  and  the 
youth  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  a  greater  difference  than 
between  the  youth  and  the  man  of  twenty ;  and  this 
demands  a  corresponding  difference  in  their  studies. 
And  yet,  as  matters  are  carried  on  now,  the  child  is 
too  often  kept  to  the  drudgery  of  learning  by  rote 
mere  collections  of  hard  words,  perhaps,  loo,  in  a 
foreign  language ;  and  absorbed  by  the  present,  he 
gets  little  comfort  from  the  teacher's  h<BC  olim  memi- 
nisse  juvabit. 

How  to  educate  the  child  is  doubtless  the  most 
ditTicult  problem  of  all,  and  it  is  generally  allotted  to 
those  who  are  the  least  likely  to  find  a  satisfactory 
solution. 

The  earliest  educator  of  the  children  of  many  rich 
parents  is  the  nursemaid — a  person  not  usually  dis- 
tinguished by  either  intellectual  or  moral  excellence. 
At  an  early  age,  tliis  educator  is  superseded  by  llie 
Preparatory  School.  Taken  as  a  body,  the  ladies 
whose  pecuniary  needs  compel  them  to  open  "  estab- 
lishments for  young  gentlemen"   (though  doubtless 


BLUNDERS  IN  EARLY  EDUCATION.       l8l 

possessed  of  many  excellent  qualities)  can  not  be 
said  to  hold  enlarged  views,  or  indeed  any  views 
whatever  on  the  subject  of  education.  Their  inten- 
tion is  not  so  much  to  cultivate  the  children's  facul- 
ties as  to  make  a  livelihood,  and  to  hear  no  complaints 
that  pupiis  who  have  left  them  have  been  found  defi- 
cient in  the  expected  knowledge  by  the  master  of 
their  new  school.  If  any  one  would  investigate  the 
sort  of  teaching  which  is  considered  adapted  to  the 
capacity  of  children  at  this  stage,  let  him  look  into  a 
standard  work  still  in  vogue  ("Mangnall's  Ques- 
tions"), from  which  the  young  of  both  sexes  acquire 
a  great  quantity  and  variety  of  learning ;  the  whole 
of  ancient  and  modern  history  and  biography,  to- 
gether with  the  heathen  mythology,  the  planetary 
system,  and  the  names  of  all  the  constellations,  lying 
very  compactly  in  about  300  pages.     (See  Appendix, 

P-3I7-) 

Unfortunately,  moreover,  from  the  gentility  of  these 

ladies,  their  scholars'  bodies  are  often  treated  in  pre- 
paratory schools  no  less  injuriously  than  their  minds. 
It  may  be  natural  in  a  child  to  use  his  lungs  and 
delight  in  noise,  but  this  can  hardly  be  considered 
genteel,  so  the  tendency  is,  as  far  as  possible,  sup- 
pressed. It  is  found,  too,  that  if  children  are  allowed 
to  run  about  they  get  dirty  and  spoil  their  clothes,  and 
do  not  look  like  "young  gentlemen,"  so  they  are  made 
to  take  exercise  in  a  much  more  genteel  fashion, 
walking  slowly  two-and-two,  with  gloves  on. 

At  nine  or  ten  years  old,  boys  are  commonly  put  to. 
a  school  taught  by  masters.  Here  they  lose  sight  of 
their  gloves,  and  learn  the  use  of  their  limbs ;  but 
their  minds  are  not  so  fortunate  as  their  bodies.     The 


l82  PESTALOZZIANISM. 


Studies  of  the  school  have  been  arranged  without  any 
thought  of  their  peculiar  needs.  The  youngest  class 
is  generally  the  largest,  often  much  the  largest,  and  it 
is  handed  over  to  the  least  competent  and  worst  paid 
master  on  the  staff  of  teachers.  The  reason  is,  that 
little  boys  are  found  to  learn  the  tasks  imposed  upon 
them  very  slowly.  A  youth  or  man  who  came  fresh 
to  the  Latin  grammar  would  learn  in  a  morning  as 
much  as  the  master,  with  great  labor,  can  get  into 
children  in  a  week.  It  is  thought,  therefore,  that  the 
best  teaching  should  be  applied  where  it  will  have 
most  result.  If  any  one  were  to  say  to  the  manager 
of  a  school,  "  The  master  who  takes  the  lowest  form 
teaches  badly,  and  the  children  learn  nothing ;"  he 
would  perhaps  say,  "Very  likely;  but  if  I  paid  a 
much  higher  salary,  and  got  a  better  man,  they  would 
learn  but  little."  The  only  thing  the  school-manager 
thinks  of  is,  How  much  do  the  little  boys  learn  of 
what  is  taught  in  the  higher  forms  ?  How  their  fac- 
ulties are  being  developed,  or  whether  they  have  any 
faculdes  except  for  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic, 
and  for  getting  grammar  rules,  etc.,  by  heart,  he  i.-^ 
not  so  "unpractical"  as  to  inquire. 

Pestalozzi,  it  has  been  said,  invented  nothing  new. 
Most  assuredly  he  did  not  invent  the  principle  that 
education  is  a  developing  of  the  faculties  rather  than 
an  imparting  of  knowledge.  But  he  did  much  to 
bring  this  truth  to  bear  on  early  education,  and  to 
make  it  not  only  received  but  acted  on. 

Much  has  been  written  about  the  amount  of  origi 
nalit}    which   may  be  allowed  to  Pestalozzi,  but  the 
question  is,  after  all,  of  no  great  importance.    We  must, 
at  least,  concede  to  him-  the  merit  which  he  himself 


THE    ♦♦  ENTHUSIASM  OF    HUMANITY."  1 83 

claims,  of  having  "lighted  upon  truths  little  noticed 
before,  and  principles  which,  though  almost  generally 
i\pknowledged,  were  seldom  carried  out  in  practice."* 
As  Sydney  Smith  said  of  Hamilton,  "  his  must  be  the 
credit  of  the  man  who^js  so  deeply  impressed  willi  the 
importance  of  what  he  thinks  he  has  discovered  that 
he  will  take  no  denial,  but,  at  the  risk  of  fame  and 
fortune,  pushes  through  all  opposition,  and  is  deter- 
mined the  discovery  shall  not  perish,  at  least  for  want 
of  a  fair  trial." 

But  Pestalozzi  is  distinguished  from  other  educators 
not  more  by  what  he  did,  than  by  what  he  endeavored 
to  do  ;  in  other  words,  his  differentia  is  rather  his  aim 
than  his  method. 

If  we  seek  for  the  root  of  Pestalozzi's  system,  we 
shall  find  it,  I  think,  in  that  which  was  the  motive 
power  of  Pestalozzi's  career,  •'  the  enthusiasm  of  hu- 
manity." Consumed  with  grief  for  the  degradation 
of  the  Swiss  peasantry,  he  never  lost  faith  in  their 
true  dignity  as  men,  and  in  the  possibility  of  raising 
them  to  a  condition  worthy  of  it.  He  cast  about  for 
the  best  means  of  thus  raising  therri,  and  decided 
that  it  could  be  effected,  not  by  any  improvement  in 
their  outward  circumstances,  but  by  an  education 
which  should  make  them  what  their  Creator  intended 
them  to  be,  and  should  give  them  the  use  and  the 
consciousness  of  all  their  inborn  faculties.  "  From 
my  youth  up,"  he  says,  "  I  felt  what  a  high  and  indis- 
pensable human  duty  it  is  to  labor  for  the  poor  and 
miserable  ;  .  .  .  that  he  may  attain  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  his  own  dignity  through  his  feeling  of  the 

•  Lttters  OH  Early  Education.,  vi.  p.  23.  ' 


184  PESTALOZZIANISM. 

universal  powers  and  endowments  which  he  possesses 
awakened  within  him  ;  that  he  may  not  only  learn  to 
gabble  over  by  rote  the  religious  maxim  \hat  '  man  is 
created  in  the  image  of  God,  and  is  bound  to  live  and 
die  as  a  child  of  God,'  but  may  himself  experience 
its  truth  by  virtue  of  the  Divine  power  within  him,  so 
that  he  may  be  raised,  not  only  above  the  plowing 
oxen,  but  also  above  the  man  in  purple  and  silk  who 
lives  unworthily  of  his  high  destiny."* 

Again  he  says  (and  I  quote  at  length  on  the  point, 
as  it  is  indeed  the  key'to  Peslalozzianism),  "Why 
have  I  insisted  so  strongly  on  attention  to  early 
physical  and  intellectual  education  ?  Because  I 
consider  these  as  merely  leading  to  a  higher  aim, 
to  qualify  the  human  being  for  the  free  and  full  use 
of  all  the  faculties  implanted  by  the  Creator,  and 
to  direct  all  these  faculties  toward  the  perfection  of 
the  whole  being  of  man,  that  he  may  be  enabled  to 
act  in  his  peculiar  station  as  an  instrument  of  that 
All-wise  and  Almighty  Power  that  has  called  him  into 
life."t 

Believing  in  this  high  aim  of  education,  Pestalozzi 
required  a  proper  early  training  for  all  alike.  "  Every 
human  being,"  said  he,  ♦'  has  a  claim  to  a  judicious 
devtilopment  of  his  faculties  by  those  to  whom  the 
care  of  his  infancy  is  confided. "| 

Pestalozzi  ».herefore  most  earnestly  addressed  him- 
self to  mothers,  to  convince  them  of  the  power 
placed  in   their  hands,   and  to   teach   them    how    to 

*  Quoted  in  Barnard,  p.  13. 
^Letters- on  Early  Education^  xxxii.  p.  160. 

X  Ibid  xxxii.  p.  163.  For  the  very  striking  passage  which  fellows, 
lee  Note  on  p.  rjS  infra 


DEVELOPMENT    OF   THE    FACULTIES.  185 

use  it.  "  The  mother  is  qualified,  and  qualified  b)? 
the  Creator  Himself,  to  become  the  principal  agent 
in  the  development  of  her  child  ;  .  .  .  and  what 
is  demanded  of  her  is — a  thinking  love.  .  .  .  God 
has  given  to  thy  child  all  the  faculties  of  our  nature, 
but  the  grand  point  remains  undecided — how  shall 
this  heart,  this  head,  tiiese  hands,  be  employed?  to 
whose  service  shall  they  be  dedicated?  A  question 
the  answer  to  which  involves  a  futurity  of  happiness 
or  misery  to  a  life  so  dear  to  thee.  .  .  .  It  is  re- 
corded that  God  opened  the  heavens  to  the  patriarch 
of  old,  and  showed  him  a  ladder  leading  thither. 
This  ladder  is  let  down  to  every  descendant  of  Adam  ; 
it  is  ofiered  to  thy  child.  But  he  must  be  taught  to 
climb  it.  And  let  him  not  attempt  it  by  the  cold  cal- 
culations of  the  head,  or  the  mere  impulse  of  th'^ 
heart;  but  let  all  these  powers  combine',  and  the  noble 
enterprise  will-  be  crowned  with  success.  These 
powers  are  already  bestowed  on  him,  but  to  thee  it  is 
given  to  assist  in  calling  them  forth."*  "  Maternal 
love  is  the  first  agent  in  education.  .  .  .  Through 
it  the  child  is  led  to  love  and  trust  his  Creator  and  his 
Redeemer." 

From  the  theory  of  development  which  lay  at  the 
root  of  Pestalozzi's  views  of  education,  it  followed  that 
the  imparling  of  knowledge  and  the  training  for  spe- 
cial pursuits  held  only  a  subordinate  position  in  his 
scheme.  "  Education,  instead  of  merely  consider- 
ing what  is  to  be  imparted  to  children,  ought  to  con- 
sider first  what  they  may  be  said  already  to  possess, 
if  not  as  a  developed,  at  least  as  an  involved  faculty 


*  L*tt«rs  OH  Early  Education,  v.  p.  21. 


1 86  PESTALOZ2IANISM. 


capable  of  development.  Or  if,  instead  of  speaking 
thus  in  the  abstract,  we  will  but  recollect  that  it  is  to 
the  great  Author  of  life  that  man  owes  the  possession, 
and  is  responsible  for  the  use,  of  his  innate  faculties, 
education  should  not  only  decide  what  is  to  be  made 
of  a  child,  but  rather  inquire,  what  it  was  intended 
that  he  should  become  ?  What  is  his  destiny  as  a 
created  and  responsible  being?  What  are  his  facul- 
ties as  a  rational  and  moral  being?  What  are  the 
means  for  their  perfection,  and  the  end  held  out  as  the 
higiiest  object  of  their  efforts  by  the  Almigiity  Father 
of  all,  both  in  creation  and  in  the  page  of  revela- 
tion?" 

Education,  then,  must  consist  *'  in  a  continual  be- 
nevolent superintendence,  with  the  object  of  calling 
forth  all  the  faculties  which  Providence  has  implanted  ; 
and  its  province,  thus  enlarged,  will  yet  be  with  less 
difficulty  surveyed  from  one  point  of  view,  and  will 
have  more  of  a  systematic  and  truly  philosophical 
character,  than  an  incoherent  mass  of  exercises — 
arranged  without  unity  of  principle,  and  gone  through 
without  interest — which  too  often  usurps  its  name." 

An  education  of  the  latter  description  he  denounced 
with  the  zeal  of  a  Luther. 

*  The  present  race  of  schoolmasters,"  he  writes, 
•'  aticrifice  the  essence  of  true  teaching  to  separate 
and  disconnected  teaching  in  a  complete  jumble  of 
subjects.  By  dishing  up  fragments  of  all  kinds  of 
truths,  they  destroy  the  spirit  of  truth  itself,  and  ex- 
tinguish the  power  of  self-dependence  which,  without 
that  spirit,  can  not  exist."* 

♦Quoted  by  Carl  Schmidt.  Gesch.  d.  Pad,  vol.  iv.  p.  87. 


DEVELOPMENT   OF   THE    AFFECTIONS.  187 


With  Pcs'lalozzi  teaching  was  not  so  much  to  be 
thought  of  as  training.  Training  must  be  found  for 
the  child's  heart,  head,  and  hand,  and  the  capacities 
of  the  heart  and  head  must  be  developed  by  practice 
n:  less  than  those  of  the  hand.  The  heart,  as  we 
have  seen,  is  first  influenced  by  the  mother.  At  a 
later  period  Pestalozzi  would  have  the  charities  of  the 
family  circle  introduced  into  the  school-room  (rather 
ignoring  the  difference  which  the  altered  ratio  of  the 
}oung  to  the  adults  makes  in  the  conditions  of  the 
problem),  and  would  have  the  child  taught  virtue  by 
his  affections  being  exercised  and  his  benevolence 
guided  to  action.  There  is  an  interesting  instance  on 
record  of  the  way  in  which  he  himself  applied  this 
principle.  When  he  was  at  Stanz,  news  arrived  of 
the  destruction  of  Altdorf.  Pestalozzi  depicted  to  his 
scholars  the  misery  of  the  children  there.  "Hun- 
dreds," said  he,  "are  at  this  moment  wandering  about 
as  you  were  last  year,  without  a  home,  perhaps  with- 
out food  or  clothing."  He  then  asked  them  if  they 
would  not  wish  to  receive  some  of  these  children 
among  them?  This,  of  course,  they  were  eager  to 
do.  Pestalozzi  then  pointed  out  the  sacrifices  it  would 
involve  on  their  part,  that  they  would  have  to  share 
everything  with  the  new  comers,  and  to  eat  less  and 
work  more  than  before.  Only  when  they  promised 
to  make  these  sacrifices  ungrudgingly,  he  undertook 
to  apply  to  Government  that  the  children's  wish  might 
be  granted.  It  was  thus  that  Pestalozzi  endeavored 
to  develop  the  moral  and  religious  life  of  the  children, 
which  is  based  on  trust  and  love. 

The  child's  thinking  faculty  is  capable,  according 
to  Pestalozzi,  of  being  exercised  almost  from  the  com- 


1 88  PESTALOZZIANISM. 


mcncement  of  consciousness.  Indeed,  it  has  been 
objected  against  Pestalozzi's  S3'stem  that  he  cuhivaled 
the  mere  intellectual  powers  at  the  expense  oi"  llie 
poetical  and  imaginative.  All  knowledge,  he  taught, 
is  acquired  by  sensation  and  observation  :  sometimes 
it  has  been  thought  that  he  traces  everything  originally 
to  the  senses ;  but  he  seems  to  extend  the  word  Ans- 
chautmg  to  every  experience  of  which  the  mind  be- 
comes conscious.* 

The  child,  then,  must  be  made  to  observe  accu- 
rately, and  to  reflect  on  its  observations.  The  best 
subject-matter  for  the  lessons  will  be  the  most  ordi- 
nary things  that  can  be  found.  "Not  only  is  there 
not  one  of  the  little  incidents  in  the  life  of  a  child,  in 
his  amusements  and  recreations,  in  his  relation  to 
his  parents,  and  friends,  and  playfellows ;  but  there 
is  actually  not  anything  within  the  reach  of  a  child's 
attention,  whether  it  belong  to  nature  or  to  the  em- 
ployments and  arts  of  life,  that  may  not  be  made  the 
object  of  a  lesson  by  which  some  useful  knowledge 
may  be  imparted,  and,  what  is  still  more  important, 
by  which  the  child  may  not  be  familiarized  with  ihe 
habit  of  thinking  on  what  he  sees,  and  speaking 
after  he  has  thought.     The  mode  of  doing  this  is  not 

*  I  dare  say  I  am  not  the  only  English  reader  of  German  books 
wtio  has  been  perplexed  by  the  words  Anschauung  and  attschaulick. 
Slielling's  definition  is  as  follows:  "Anschauung  ist  jene  Handlung 
dcs  Geistes  in  welcher  er  aus  Th.itigkeit  und  Leiden,  aus  unbc 
schninkter  und  beschninkter  Thiitigkeit,  in  sich  selbst  ein  gemein- 
schaftliches  Produkt  scliafft."  The  word  seems  used,  in  fact,  for  the 
mind's  becoming  conscious  of  any  fact  immediately  by  experience,  in 
contradistinction  to  inferences  from  symbols.  To  make  inptruction 
anschaulick,  therefore,  is  to  make  the  learner  acquire  knowledge  by 
t)i8  direct  experiences- 


MODE    OF    TEACHING.  189 


by  any  means  to  talk  much  to  a  cliild,  but  to  enter 
into  conversation  vvitli  a  child  ;  not  to  address  to  him 
many  words,  however  I'amihar  and  well  chosen,  but 
(0  brini*  him  to  express  himself  on  the  subject ;  not  to 
exhaust  the  subject,  but  to  question  the  child  about  it 
and  to  let  him  find  out  and  correct  the  answers.  It 
would  be  ridiculous  to  expect  that  the  volatile  spirits 
of  a  child  could  be  brought  to  follow  any  lengthy  ex- 
planations. The  attention  is  deadened  by  long  expo- 
sitions, but  roused  by  animated  questions.  Let  tiiese 
questions  be  short,  clear,  and  intelligible.  Let  them 
not  merely  lead  the  child  to  repeat  in  the  same,  or  in 
varied  terms,  what  he  has  heard  just  before.  Let 
them  excite  him  to  observe  what  is  before  him,  to  rec- 
ollect what  he  has  learned,  and  to  muster  his  little 
stock,  of  knowledjje  for  materials  for  an  answer. 
Show  him  a  certain  quality  in  one  thmg,  and  let  h.vr. 
find  out  the  sa<ne  in  others.  Tell  him  that  the  shape 
of  a  ball  is  called  rounds  and  if,  accordingly,  you 
bring  him  to  point  out  other  objects  to  which  the  same 
property  belongs,  you  have  employed  him  more  use- 
fully than  by  the  most  perfect  discourse  on  rotundity. 
In  the  one  instance  he  would  have  had  to  listen  and 
to  recollect,  in  the  other  he  has  to  observe  and  to 
think."*  "  From  observation  and  memory  there  is 
only  one  step  to  reflection.  Though  imperft-ct,  this 
operation  is  often  found  among  the  early  exercises  of 
the  infant  mind.  The  powerful  stimulus  of  inquisi 
liveness  prompts  to  exertions  which,  if  successful  or 
encouraged  by  others,  wi^l  lead  to  a  habit  of  thought."t 

•  Letters  on  Early  Education,  xxxix.  p.   147. 
t  Ibid.  XX.  p.  93. 


IQO  PESTALOZZIANISM. 

Words,  which  are  the  signs  of  thngs,  must  nevei 
be  taught  the  child  till  he  has  grasped  the  idea  of  the 
thing  signified. 

When  an  object  has  been  submitted  to  his  senses, 
he  must  be  led  to  the  consciousness  of  the  impressions 
produced,  and  then  must  be  taught  the  name  of  the 
object  and  of  the  qualities  producing  those  impres- 
sions. Last  of  all,  he  must  ascend  to  the  definition  of 
the  object. 

The  object-lessons  Pestalozzi  divided  into  three 
great  classes,  under  the  heads  of — (i)  Form;  (2) 
Number ;  (3)  Speech.  It  was  his  constant  endeavor 
to  make  his  pupils  distinguish  between  essentials  and 
accidentals,  and  with  his  habit  of  constant  analysis, 
which  seems  pushed  to  an  extreme  that  to  children 
would  be  repulsive,  he  sought  to  reduce  Form ,  Number, 
and  Speech  to  their  elements.  In  his  alphabet  of  Form 
everything  vvas  represented  as  having  the  square  as 
its  base.  In  Number  all  operations  were  traced  back 
to  1  -|-  I.  In  Speech  the  children,  in  their  very 
cradles,  were  to  be  taught  the  elements  of  sound,  as 
ba,  ba,  ba,  da,  da,  da,  ma,  ma,  ma,  etc.  This  elemen- 
tary teaching  Pestalozzi  considered  of  the  greatest 
importance,  and  when  he  himself  instructed  he  went 
over  the  ground  very  slowly.  Buss  tells  us  that  when 
he  first  joined  Pestalozzi  the  delay  over  the  prime 
elements  seemed  to  him  a  waste  of  time,  but  that 
afterward  he  was  convinced  of  its  being  the  right 
plan,  and  felt  that  the  failure  of  his  own  education 
was  due  to  its  incoherent  and  desultory  character. 
*'  Not  only,"  sajs  Pestalozzi,  "  have  the  first  elements 
of  knowledge  in  every  subject  the  most  imporlanl 
bearing  on  its  complete  outline,  but  the  child's  confi- 


MODE  OP  TfiACHmO.  tgf 


dence  and  interest  are  gained  by  perfect  attainment 
even  in  the  lowest  stage  of  instruction."  By  his  oh- 
ject-lessons  Pestalozzi  aimed  at — i,  enlarging  gradu- 
ally the  sphere  of  a  child's  intuition,  i.  e.,  incieasing 
the  number  of  objects  falling  under  his  immediate  per- 
ception ;  2,  impressing  upon  him  those  perceptions  of 
which  he  had  become  conscious,  with  certaiuty,  clear- 
ness, and  precision  ;  3,  imparting  to  him  a  compre- 
hensive knowledge  of  language  for  the  expression  of 
whatever  had  become  or  was  becoming  an  object  of 
his  consciousness,  in  consequence  either  of  the  spon- 
taneous impulse  of  his  own  nature,  or  of  the  assist- 
ance of  tuition. 

Of  all  the  instruction  given  at  Yverdun,  the  most 
successful,  in  the  opinion  of  those  who  visited  the 
school,  was  the  instruction  in  arithmetic.  The  children 
are  described  as  performing  with  great  rapidity  very 
difficult  tasks  in  head-calculation.  Pestalozzi  based 
his  method  here,  as  in  other  subjects,  on  the  principle 
that  the  individual  should  be  brought  to  knowledge  by 
a  road  similar  to  that  which  the  whole  race  had  used 
in  founding  the  science.  Actual  counting  of  things 
preceded  the  first  Cocker,  as  actual  measuring  of  land 
preceded  the  original  Euclid.  The  child  then  muft 
be  taught  to  count  things,  and  to  find  out  the  various 
processes  experimentally  in  the  concrete  before  he  is 
given  any  abstract  rule,  or  is  put  to  any  abstract  ex- 
ercises. This  plan  is  now  commonly  adopted  in  Ger- 
man schools,  and  many  ingenious  contrivances  have 
been  introduced  by  which  the  combinations  of  things 
can  be  presented  to  the  children's  sight. 

Next  to  the  education  of  the  aflections  and  the  in- 
tellect come  those  exercises  in  which  the  body  is  more 


192  FESTALOZZIANISM. 

prominent.  I  do  not  know  that  there  was  anything 
distinctive  in  Pestalozzi's  views  and  practices  in  physi- 
cal education,  although  he  attached  the  due  impor- 
tance to  it  which  had  previously  been  perceived  only 
by  Locke  and  Rousseau,  and  in  Germany  by  Basedow 
and  his  colleagues  of  the  Philanthropin. 

Great  pains  should  be  taken  with  the  cultivation  of 
the  senses,  and  finally  the  artistic  faculty  (^Kunstkraft) 
should  be  developed,  in  which  the  power  of  the  mind 
and  that  of  the  senses  are  united.  Music  and  drawing 
played  a  leading  part  in  Pestalozzi's  schools.  They 
were  taught  to  all  the  children,  even  the  youngest,  and 
were  not  limited  to  the  conventional  two  hours  a  week. 
It  is  natural  to  children  to  imitate  ;  thus  they  acquire 
language,  and  thus,  with  proper  direction  and  encour- 
agement, they  will  find  pleasure  in  attempting  to  sing  the 
melodies  they  hear,  and  to  draw  the  simple  objects 
around  them.  By  drawing,  the  eye  is  trained  as  well  as 
the  hand.  "  A  person  who  is  in  the  habit  of  drawing,  es- 
pecially from  nature,  will  easily  perceive  many  circum- 
stanceswhich  are  commonly  overlooked,  and  willform  a 
mucli  more  correct  impression,  even  of  such  objects 
as  he  does  not  stop  to  examine  minutely,  than  one 
who  has  never  been  taught  to  look  upon  what  he 
.''ees  with  an  intention  of  reproducing  a  likeness  of 
it.  The  attention  to  the  exact  shape  of  the  whole, 
ami  the  proportion  of  the  parts,  which  is  requisite  for 
the  taking  of  an  adequate  sketch,  is  converted  into  a 
habit,  and  becomes  productive  both  of  instruction  and 
amusement."* 

Besides  drawing,  Pestalozzi  recommended  model- 


*  L^ttcs  <9«  Early  Education,  xxiv.  p.  117. 


INTEREST   m  WORK.  I93 


ing,  a  hint  which  was  afterward  worked  out  by  Frobel 
in  his  Kindergarten. 

Differing  I'roin  Locke  and  Basedow,  Peslalozzi  was 
no  friend  to  the  notion  of  giving  inslruclion  alvva3's  in 
the  guise  of  amusement.  "  I  am  convinced,"  says  he, 
"  that  such  a  notion  will  forever  prechide  solidity  of 
knowledge,  and,  from  want  of  sufficient  exertions  on 
the  part  of  the  pupils,  will  lead  to  that  very  result 
which  I  wish  to  avoid  by  my  principle  of  a  constant 
employment  of  the  thinking  powers.  A  child  must 
very  early  in  life  he  taught  the  lesson  that  exertion  is 
indispensable  for  the  attainment  of  knowledge."  But  a 
child  should  not  be  taught  to  look  upon  exertion  as  an 
evil.  He  should  be  encouraged,  not  frightened  into 
it.  "An  interest  in  study  is  the  first  thing  which  a 
teacher  should  endeavor  to  excite  and  keep  alive. 
The't'e  are  scarcely  any  circumstances  in  which  a  want 
of  application  in  children  does  not  proceed  from  a 
want  of  interest ;  and  there  are  perhaps  none  in  which 
the  want  of  interest  does  not  originate  in  the  mode  of 
teaching  adopted  by  the  teacher.  I  would  go  so  far 
as  to  lay  it  down  as  a  rule,  that  whenever  children  are 
inattentive  and  apparently  take  no  interest  in  a  lesson, 
the  teacher  should  alwa3^s  first  look  to  himself  for  the 
reason.  .  .  .  Could  we  conceive  the  indescriba- 
ble tedium  which  must  oppress  the  young  mind  whil 
the  weary  hours  are  slowly  passing  away  one  aftei 
another  in  occupations  which  it  can  neither  relish  no 
understand,  coidd  we  remember  the  like  scenes  whicl 
our  own  childhood  has  passed  through,  we  should  nn 
longer  be  surprised  at  the  remissness  of  the  school- 
boy, '  creeping  like  snail  unwillingly  to  school.' 
.     .     To  change  all  this,  '  we  must  adopt   a  bettei 


t94  tfiSTALOZZIANISM. 

mode  of  instruction,  by  which  the  children  are  less 
left  to  themselves,  less  thrown  upon  the  unwelcome 
employment  of  passive  listening,  less  harshly  treated 
for  little  excusable  failings  ;  but  more  roused  by  ques- 
tions, animated  by  illustrations,  interested  and  won  b}' 
kindness. 

♦'  There  is  a  most  remarkable  reciprocal  action  be- 
tween the  interest  which  the  teacher  takes  and  that 
which  he  communicates  to  his  pupils.  If  he  is  not 
with  his  whole  mind  present  at  the  subject,  if  he  does 
not  care  whether  he  is  understood  or  not,  whether  his 
manner  is  liked  or  not,  he  will  alienate  the  affections 
of  his  pupils,  and  render  them  indifferent  to  what  he 
says.  But  real  interest  taken  in  the  task  of  instruc- 
tion— kind  words  and  kinder  feelings — the  very  ex- 
pression of  the  features,  and  the  glance  of  the  eye, 
are  never  lost  upon  children."* 

In  conclusion,  I  would  ask,  Have  English  school- 
masters nothing  to  learn  from  Pestalozzi?  Do  they 
aim  at  a  plan  of  education  which  shall  be  founded  on 
a  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  at  modes  of  in- 
struction which  shall  develop  their  pupils'  faculties? 
Perhaps  some  will  be  inclined  to  answer,  "  Fine  words 
no  doubt,  and  in  a  sense  very  true,  that  education 
should  be  the  unfolding  of  the  faculties  according  to 
the  Divine  idea  ;  but  between  this  high  poetical  theory 
and  the  dull  prose  of  actual  school-teaching,  there  is 
a  great  gulf  fixed,  and  we  can  not  attend  to  both  at 
the  same  time."  I  know  full  well  how  different  theo- 
ries and  plans  of  education  seem  to  us  when  we  are 
at  leisure  and  can  think  of  them  without  reference  to 
particular  pupils,  and  when  all  our  energy  is  taxed  lo 

*  letters  on  Early  Education,  xxx.  p.  150. 


THEORY    ANt>   PRACTICE.  I95 


get  through  our  day's  teaching,  and  our  animal  spirits 
jaded  by  having  to  keep  order  and  exact  attention 
among  veritable  schoolboys  who  do  not  answer  in  all 
respects  to  "  the  young"  of  the  theorists.  But  whilst 
admitting  most  heartily  the  difference  here,  as  else- 
where, between  the  actual  and  the  ideal,  I  think  that 
the  dull  prose  of  school-teaching  would  be  less  dull 
and  less  prosaic  if  our  aim  was  higher,  and  if  we  did 
not  contentedly  assume  that  our  present  performances 
are  as  good  as  the  nature  of  the  case  will  admit  of. 
Many  teachers  (I  think  I  might  say  most)  are  discon- 
tented with  the  greater  number  of  their  pupils,  but  it 
is  not  so  usual  for  teachers  to  be  discontented  with 
themselves.  And  yet  even  those  who  are  most  averse 
from  theoretical  views,  which  they  call  unpractical, 
Arould  admit,  as  practical  men,  that  their  methods  are 
probably  susceptible  of  improvement,  ifnd  that  even  if 
their  methods  are  right,  they  themselves  are  by  no 
means  perfect  teachers.  Only  let  the  desire  of  im- 
provement once  exist,  and  the  teacher  will  find  a  new 
interest  in  his  work.  In  part,  the  treadmill-like  mo- 
notony so  wearing  to  the  spirits  will  be  done  away,  and 
he  will  at  times  have  the  encouragement  of  conscious 
progress.  To  a  man  thus  minded,  theorists  may  be 
of  great  assistance.  His  practical  knowledge  may, 
indeed,  often  show  him  the  absurdity  of  some  pomp- 
ously enunciated  principle,  and  even  where  the  prin- 
ciples seem  sound,  he  may  smile  at  the  applications. 
But  the  theorists  will  show  him  many  aspects  of  his 
profession,  and  will  lead  him  to  make  many  observa- 
tions in  it,  which  would  otherwise  have  escaped  him. 
They  will  save  him  from  a  danger  caused  by  the  difli- 
culty  of  getting  anything  done  in  the  school-room,  the 


196  PESTALOZZIANISM. 

danger  of  thinking  more  of  means  than  ends.  They 
will  teach  him  to  examine  what  his  aim  really  is,  and 
then  whether  he  is  using  the  most  suitable  methods  to 
accomplish  it. 

Such  a  theorist  is  Pestalozzi.  He  points  to  a  high 
ideal,  and  bids  us  measure  our  modes  of  education  by 
it.  Let  us  not  forget  that  if  we  are  practical  men  we 
are  Christians,  and  as  such  the  ideal  set  before  us  is 
the  highest  of  all.  "  Be  ye  perfect,  even  as  your 
Father  in  heaven  is  perfect."* 

*  Raumer  reckons  up  the  services  Pestalozzi  did  for  education  as 
follows :  "  He  compelled  the  scholastic  world  to  revise  the  whole  of 
their  task,  to  reflect  on  the  nature  and  destiny  of  man,  and  also  on  the 
proper  way  of  leading  him  from  his  youth  toward  that  destiny." 
Those  who  wish  to  study  Pestalozzi  and  his  works  will  find  a  mass 
of  information,  thrown  together  without  any  apparent  attempt  at 
method,  in  Henry  Barnard's  Pestalozzi  and  Pcstalozziatiism.  New 
York,  1S59.  This  volume  contains  Tillcard's  translation  of  Rau- 
mer's  Pestalozzi,  excerpted  from  the  GeschTchtc  der  Padagogik,  and 
Dublished  in  this  country.  Besides  this,  Barnard  gives  us  sketches 
of  Pestalozzi's  principal  assistants,  a  translation  of  Lie'nhard  und 
Gertrud,  and  long  extracts  from  his  otlier  writings.  I  have  used 
chiefly  Barnard  and  Dr.  Biber's  Life,  also  article  by  Palmer  in  C.  A. 
Schmid'b  Encyclop;idie.  An  important  work  (according  to  Barnard, 
1  have  not  seen  it  myself)  is  R.  Chrislon'ol's  Pcstalozzis  Lebeii  it»d 
Ansichten  in  ivortgetreiien  Anszugcn  seiner  gesammten  Schriften. 
Zurich,  1S47.  ili^  little  volume  o{  Letters  on  Early  Education,  ad- 
dressed to  Mr.  Greaves,  was  last  publislied  in  the  Phoenix  Library. 
i  have  made  many  quotations  from  these  letters  .nhove,  and  will  con- 
clude with  this  striking  passage  :  "  Whenever  we  find  a  human  be- 
ing in  a  state  of  suflering,  and  near  to  the  awful  moment  which  is 
forever  to  close  tlie  .scene  of  his  pains  and  enjoyments  in  t 'is 
world,  we  feel  ourselves  moved  by  a  sympathy  which  reminds  us, 
that,  however  low  his  eartidy  condition,  here  too  there  is  one  of  our 
race,  subject  to  the  same  sensations  of  alternate  joy  and  grief — born 
with  the  same  faculties — with  the  same  destination,  and  the  same 
hopes  of  immortal  life.  And  as  we  give  ourselves  up  to  that  idea, 
we  would  fain,  if  we  ccild,  alleviate  his  sufterings,  and  shed  a  ray 
of  li^ht  on  the  darkness  of  his   parking  moments.     This  is  a  feel 


BIRTH   AND    DEATH.  I97 

ing  which  will  come  home  to  the  heart  of  every  one — even  to  the 

young  and  the  thouLjhtless,  and  to  those  little  used  to  tlje  sight  Oi 
woe.  Why,  then,  we  wonld  ask,  do  we  look  with  a  careless  'ndif- 
ference  on  tliosc  who  enter  life?  why  do  we  feel  so  little  interest  .n 
the  condition  of  those  who  enter  upon  that  varied  scene,  of  which 
we  might  contribute  to  enhance  the  enjoyments,  and  to  diminish  the 
sum  of  suffering,  of  discontent,  and  wretchedness?  And  that  edu- 
cation might  do  this,  is  the  conviction  of  all  those  who  are  compe- 
tent to  speak  from  experience.  That  it  ought  to  do  as  much,  is  tho 
persuasion,  and  that  it  may  accomplish  it,  is  the  constant  endeavor, 
of  (hose  who  are  truly  interested  in  the  welfare  of  mankind. 


VIII. 

JACOTOT. 


Uf  the  inventors  of  peculiar  methods  at  present 
known  to  me,  by  far  the  most  important,  in  my  judg- 
ment, is  Jacotot ;  and  if  I  were  not  well  aware  how 
small  an  interest  English  teachers  take  in  Didactics, 
I  should  be  much  surprised  that  in  this  country  his 
writings  and  achievements  have  received  so  little  at- 
tention. It  is  satisfactory  to  find,  however,  that  last 
year  some  papers  on  the  subject  were  read  at  the 
College  of  Preceptors  by  Mr.  Joseph  Payne,  one  of 
the  Vice-presidents,  and  were  afterward  published  in 
the  '*  Educational  Times."*  These  papers,  which 
will  not,  I  hope,  be  suffered  to  lie  buried  in  the  pages 
of  a  periodical,  contain  the  only  good  account  of 
Jacotot  I  have  met  with,  though  having  long  been 
impressed  with  the  importance  of  his  ideas,  I  have  at 
different  times  consulted  various  foreign  books  aboi 
him. 

In  the  following  summary  of  Jacotot's  system,  I  an* 
largely  indebted  to  Mr.  Pa3^ne,  and  to  him  I  refer  the 
reader  for  a  much  more  luminous  account  than  my 
shorter  space  and  inferior  knowledge  of  the  subject 
enable  me  to  offer. 

Jacotot  was  born  at  Dijon,  of  humble  parentage,  in 

*  For  June,  Julj,  and  September,  1867. 
(198: 


AT   DIJON.  199 

1770.  Even  as  a  boy  he  showed  his  preference  foi 
"self-ltaching.**  Wc  are  told  that  lie  rejoiced  greatly 
in  the  acquisition  of  all  kinds  of  knowledge  that  could 
be  gained  by  his  own  efforts,  while  he  steadily  resisted 
what  was  imposed  on  him  by  authority.  He,  how- 
ever, was  early  distinguished  by  his  acquirements,  and 
at  the  age  of  twenty-five  was  appointed  sub-directoi 
of  the  Pol^'technic  school.  Some  years  after^^•ard  he 
became  Professor  of  **the  Method  of  Sciences"  at 
Dijon,  and  it  was  here  that  his  method  of  instruction 
first  attracted  attention.  *'  Instead  of  pouring  forth  a 
flood  of  information  on  the  subject  under  attention 
from  his  own  ample  stores — explaining  everything, 
and  thus  too  frequently  superseding  in  a  great  degree 
the  pupil's  own  investigation  of  it — ^Jacotot,  after  a 
simple  statement  of  the  subject,  with  its  leading  divis* 
ions,  boldl}'  started  it  as  a  quarry  forthe  class  to  hunt 
down,  and  invited  every  member  to  take  part  in  the 
chase."*  All  were  free  to  ask  questions,  to  raise  ob- 
jections, to  suggest  answers.  The  Professor  himself 
did  little  more  than  by  leading  questions  put  them  on 
the  right  scent.  He  was  afterward  Professor  of  An 
cient  and  Oriental  Languages,  of  Mathematics,  and 
of  Roman  Law ;  and  he  pursued  the  same  method,  we 
are  told,  with  uniform  success.  Being  compelled 
to  leave  France  as  an  enemy  of  the  Bourbons,  he  wa 
appointed,  in  1818,  when  he  was  forty-eight  years  olc^ 
to  the  Professorship  of  the  French  Language  and 
Literature  at  the  University  of  Lou  vain.     The  cele 

*  There  is  a  singular  ooinddeiice  evrn  in  metaphor  between  Mr. 
Pajme's  acxx>unt  of  Jacotot's  mode  of  instructing  this  class  and  Mr. 
Wilson's  directions  for  teaching  science.     {Sssmys  om  a  Liberal  Bd 


200  JACOTOT. 

brated  teacher  was  received  with  enthusiasm,  but  he 
soon  met  with  an  unexpected  difficulty.  Many  mem- 
bers of  his  large  class  knew  no  language  but  ihe 
Flemish  and  Dutch,  and  of  these  he  himself  was  to- 
tally ignorant.  He  was,  therefore,  forced  to  consider 
ho\7  to  teach  without  talking  to  his  pupils.  The  plan 
he  adopted  was  as  follows  : — He  gave  the  young  Flem- 
ings copies  of  Fenelon's  "  Teleniaque,"  with  the  French 
on  one  side,  and  a  Dutch  translation  on  the  other. 
This  they  had  to  study  for  themselves,  comparing  the 
two  languages,  and  learning  the  French  by  heart. 
They  were  to  go  over  the  same  ground  again  and 
again,  and  as  soon  as  possible  they  were  to  give  in 
French,  however  bad,  the  substance  of  those  parts 
which  they  had  not  yet  committed  to  memory.  This 
method  was  found  to  succeed  marvelously.  Jacotot 
attributed  its  success  to  the  fact  that  the  students  had 
learnt  entirely  by  the  efforts  of  their  own  minds ,  and 
that,  though  working  under  his  superintendence,  they 
had  been,  in  fact,  their  own  teachers.  Hence  he  pro- 
ceeded to  generalize,  and  by  degrees  arrived  at  a 
series  of  astounding  paradoxes.  These  paradoxes  at 
first  did  their  work  well,  and  made  noise  enough  in 
the  world,  but  Jacotot  seems  to  me  like  a  captain,  who, 
in  his  eagerness  to  astonish  his  opponents,  takes  on 
board  such  heavy  guns  as  eventually  must  sink  his 
own  ship. 

"  All  human  beings  are  equally  capable  of  learning* 
said  Jacotot.  Others  had  said  this  before  ;  butnoteacher, 
I  suppose,  of  more  than  a  fortnight's  experience,  had 
ever  believed  it.  The  truth  which  Jacotot  chose  to 
throw  into  this  more  than  doubtful  form,  may  perhaps 
be  expressed   by  saying  that  tjio  .student's  power  of 


TEACHING   WHAT   WE   DO    NOT    KNOW.  201 

learning  depends,  in  a  great  measure,  on  his  willy  and 
that  where  there  is  no  will  there  is  no  capacity. 

'■^  Every  one  can  teach;  and.,  moreover.,  can  teach 
that  -which  he  does  not  know  himself.^  I  believe  this 
paradox  is  the  propeity  of  Jacotot  alone.  It  seems, 
on  the  face  of  it,  so  utterly  absurd,  that  it  seldom 
answers  the  purpose  of  a  paradox — seldom  draws  at- 
tention to  the  truth  of  which  it  is  a  partial,  or  a  per- 
verted, or  an  exaggerated  statement.  The  answer 
which  Jacotot  and  his  friends  made  to  the  scoffs  of  the 
unbelieving,  was  an  appeal  to  facts.  Jacotot,  they 
said,  not  only  taught  French  without  any  means  of 
communicating  with  his  pupils,  but  he  also  taught 
drawing  and  music,  although  quite  ignorant  on  those 
subjects.  Without  the  least  wishing  to  discredit  the 
honesty  of  the  witnesses  who  make' this  assertion,  I 
can  only  admit  the  fact  with  great  qualifications.  Let 
us  ask  ourselves,  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  assertion 
that  we  can  teach  what  we  do  not  know.  First  of  all, 
we  have  to  get  rid  of  some  ambiguity  in  the  meaning 
of  the  word  teach.  To  teach,  according  to  Jacotot's 
idea,  is  to  cause  to  learn.  Teaching  and  learning  are 
therefore  correlatives :  where  there  is  no  learning 
there  can  be  no  teaching.  But  this  meaning  of  the 
word  only  coincides  partially  with  the  ordinary  mean- 
ing. We  speak  of  the  lecturer  or  preacher  as  teach- 
ing when  he  gives  his  hearers  an  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing, and  do  not  say  that  his  teaching  ceases  the  instant 
they  cease  to  attend.  On  the  other  hand,  we  do  no 
call  a  parent  a  teacher  because  he  sends  his  boy  tc 
school,  and  so  causes  him  to  learn.  The  notion  of 
teaching,  then,  in  the  minds  of  most  of  us,  includes 
giving  information,  or  showing  how  an  art  is  to  be 


202  JACOTOT. 

performed,  and  we  look  upon  Jacotot's  assertion  as 
absurd,  because  we  feel  that  no  one  can  give  informa- 
tion which  he  does  not  possess,  or  show  how  anything 
is  to  be  done  if  he  does  not  himself  know.  But  lei 
us  take  the  Jacototian  definition  of  teaching — causing 
to  learn— rand  then  see  how  far  a  person  can  cause 
another  to  learn  that  of  which  he  himself  is  ignorant. 

Subjects  which  are  taught  may  be  divided  into  three 
great  classes: — i,  Facts;  2,  reasonings,  or  generali- 
zation from  facts,  i.  e.,  science;  3,  actions  which  have 
to  be  performed  by  the  learner,  i.  e.,  arts. 

I.  We  learn  some  facts  by  what  the  Pestalozzians 
rail  intuition,  i.  e.,  by  direct  experience.  It  may  be 
as  well  to  make  the  number  of  them  as  large  as  pos- 
sible. No  doubt  there  are  no  facts  which  are  known 
so  perfectly  as  these.  For  instance,  a  boy  who  has 
tried  to  smoke,  knows  the  fact  that  tobacco  is  apt  to 
produce  nausea,  much  belter  than  another  who  has 
picked  up  the  information  at  second-hand.  An  intelli 
gent  master  may  suggest  experiments,  even  in  matters 
about  which  he  himself  is  ignorant,  and  thus,  iq 
Jacotot's  sense,  he  teaches  things  which  he  does  not 
know.  But  some  facts  can  not  be  learnt  in  this  way, 
and  then  a  Newton  is  helpless  either  to  find  them 
out  for  himself,  or  to  teach  them  to  others  without 
knowing  them.  If  the  teacher  does  not  know  in 
what  county  Tavistock  is,  he  can  only  learn  from 
those  who  do,  and  the  pupils  will  be  no  cleverer  than 
their  master.  Here,  then,  I  consider  that  Jacotot's 
pretensions  utterly  break  down.  *♦  No,"  the  answer 
is;  "  the  teacher  may  give  the  pupil  an  atlas,  and  di- 
rect the  boy  to  find  out  for  himself;  thus  the  master 
will  teach  what  he  does  not  know."     But,  in  this  case, 


THE    PARADOX    EXAMINED.  2O3 


he  is  a  teacher  onl}'  so  far  as  he  knows.  For  what  he 
does  not  know,  he  hands  over  the  pupil  to  the  makei 
ot'  the  map,  who  communicates  with  him,  not  orally, 
but  by  ink  and  paper.  The  master's  ignorance  is 
simply  an  obstacle  to  the  boy's  learning ;  for  the  boy 
would  learn  sooner  the  position  of  Tavistock,  if  it 
were  shown  him  on  the  map.  "  That  *s  the  very 
point,"  says  the  disciple  of  Jacotot.  "  If  the  boy 
gets  the  knowledge  without  any  trouble,  he  is  likely 
to  forget  it  again  directly.  *  Lightly  come,  lightly 
go.'  Moreover,  his  faculty  of  observation  will  not 
have  been  exercised."  It  may,  indeed,  be  well  not 
to  allow  the  knowledge  even  of  facts,  to  come  too 
easily  ;  though  I  doubt  whether  the  difficulties  which 
arise  from  the  master's  ignorance  will  generally  be 
the  most  advantageous.  Still  ther'e  is  obviously  d 
limit.  If  we  gave  boys  their  lessons  in  cipher,  and 
offered  a  prize  to  the  first  decipherer,  one  would  prob- 
ably be  found  at  last,  and  meantime  all  the  boys' 
powers  of  observation,  etc.,  would  have  been  culti- 
vated by  comparing  like  signs  in  different  positions, 
and  guessing  at  their  meaning :  but  the  boys'  time 
might  have  been  better  employed.  Many  eminent 
authorities  consider  that  the  memory  is  assisted  by 
dictionary  work,  but  all  are  agreed  that,  at  least  in  the 
case  of  beginners,  the  outlay  of  time  is  too  great  foj 
the  advantage  obtained.  Jacotot's  plan  of  teaching  a 
language  which  the  master  did  not  know^  was  to  put 
a  book  with,  say,  "Arma  virumque  cano,"  etc.,  on  one 
side,  and  •'  I  sing  arms  and  the  man,"  etc.,  on  the 
other,  and  to  require  the  pupil  to  puzzle  over  it  till  he 
found  out  which  word  answered  to  which.  I  contend 
that  in  this  case  the  teacher  was  the  translator ;  and 


204  JACOTOT. 

though  from  the  roundabout  way  in  which  the  knowl- 
edge was  communicated  the  pupil  derived  some  bene* 
fit,  the  benefit  was  hardly  sufficient  to  make  up  for  the 
expenditure  of  time  involved. 

I  hold,  then,  that  Jacotot  did  not  teach  facts  of 
which  he  was  ignorant,  except  in  the  sense  in  which 
the  parent  who  sends  his  boy  to  school  may  be  said  to 
teach  him.  All  Jacotot  did  was  to  direct  the  pupil  to 
learn,  sometimes  in  a  very  awkward  fashion,  from 
somebody  else.* 

When  we  come  to  science,  we  find  all  the  best 
authorities  agree  that  the  pupil  should  be  led  to  prin- 
ciples, if  possible,  and  not  have  the  principles  brought 
to  him.  Mr.  Wilson  of  Rugby,  Professor  Tyndall,  Mr. 
n.  Spencer,  have  all  spoken  eloquently  on  this  subject, 
and  shown  how  valuable  scientific  teaching  is,  when 
thus  conducted,  in  drawing  out  the  faculties  of  the 
mind.  But  although  a  schoolboy  may  be  led  to  great 
scientific  discoveries  by  any  one  who  knows  the  road, 
he  will  have  no  more  chance  of  making  them  with  an 
ignorant  teacher,  than  he  would  have  had  in  the 
days  of  the  Ptolemies.  Here  again,  then,  I  can 
not  understand  how  the  teacher  can  teach  what  he 
does  not  know.  He  may,  indeed,  join  his  pupil  in 
investigatingprincipleSjbuthemust  either  keep  with  the 
pupil  or  go  in  advance  of  him.  In  the  first  case  he 
is  only  a  fellow-pupil ;  in  the  second,  he  teaches  only 
that  which  he  knows. 

Finall}',  we  come  to  arts,  and  we  are  told  that  Jaco- 

♦Herejacotot's  notion  of  teaching  reminds  one  of  the  sophism 
quoted  by  Montaigne — "  A  Westphalia  ham  makes  a  man  drink. 
Drink  quenches  thirst.  Therefore  a  Westphalia  ham  quenche* 
thiist" 


THE   PARADOX    EXAMINED.  205 

tot  taught  drawing  and  music,  without  being  either  a 
draughtsman  or  a  musician.  In  art  everything  de- 
pends on  rightly  directed  -practice.  The  most  con- 
summate artist  can  not  communicate  his  skill,  and  is 
often  inferior  as  a  teacher  to  one  whose  attention  is 
nore  concentrated  on  the  mechanism  of  the  art.  Per- 
haps it  is  not  even  necessary  that  the  teacher  should 
be  able  to  do  the  exercises  himself,  if  only  he  knows 
how  they  should  be  done ;  but  he  seldom  gets  credit 
for  this  knowledge,  unless  he  can  show  that  he  knows 
how  the  thing  should  be  done,  by  doing  it.  Lessing 
tells  us  that  Raphael  would  have  been  a  great  painter 
even  if  he  had  been  born  without  hands.  He  would 
not,  however,  have  succeeded  in  getting  mankind  to 
believe  it.  I  grant  then  that  the  teacher  of  art  need 
not  be  a  first-rate  artist,  and,  in  some  very  exceptional 
cases,  need  not  be  an  artist  at  all ;  but,  if  he  can  not 
perform  the  exercises  he  gives  his  pupil,  he  must  at 
least  know  how  they  should  be  done.  But  Jacotot 
claims  perfect  ignorance.  We  are  told  that  he 
"taught"  drawing  by  setting  objects  before  his  pupils, 
and  making  them  imitate  them  on  paper  as  best  they 
could.  Of  course  the  art  originated  in  this  way,  and 
a  person  with  great  perseverance,  and  (I  must  say,  in 
spite  of  Jacotot)  with  more  than  average  ability,  would 
make  considerable  progress  with  no  proper  instruction ; 
but  he  would  lose  much  by  the  ignorance  of  the  person 
calling  himself  his  teacher.  An  awkward  habit  of 
holding  the  pencil  will  make  skill  doubly  difficult  to 
acquire,  and  thus  half  his  time  might  be  wasted. 
Then,  again,  he  would  hardly  have  a  better  eye  than 
the  Cimabues  and  Bellinis  of  early  art,  so  the  drawing 
of  his  landscape  would  not  be  less  faulty  than  theirs. 


2o6  JACOTOT. 

To  consider  music.  I  am  lold  that  a  person  who  is  ig- 
norant of  music  can  teach,  say,  the  piano  or  the  violin. 
This  assertion,  I  confess,  seems  to  me  to  go  beyond 
the  region  of  paradox  into  that  of  utter  nonsense.  In 
music,  talent  often  surmounts  all  kinds  of  difficulties ; 
but  it  would  have  taxed  the  genius  of  Mozart  himself 
to  become  a  good  player  on  the  violin  and  piano, 
without  being  shown  how  to  stop  and  finger.* 

I  have  thus  carefully  examined  Jacotot's  preten- 
sions to  teach  what  he  did  not  know,  because  I  am 
anxious  that  what  seems  to  me  the  rubbish  should  be 
cleared  away  from  his  principles,  and  should  no  longer 
conceal  those  parts  of  his  system  which  are  worthy 
of  general  attention. 

At  the  root  of  Jacotot's  Paradox  lay  a  truth  of  very 
great  .importance.  The  highest  and  best  teaching  is 
not  that  which  makes  the  pupils  passive  recipients 
of  other  people's  ideas  (not  to  speak  of  the  teaching 
which  conveys  mere  words  without  any  ideas  at  all), 
but  that  which  guides  and  encourages  the  pupils  in 
working  for  themselves  and  thinking  for  themselves. 
The  master,  as  Mr.  Payne  well  says,  can  no  more  think, 
or  practice,  or  see  for  his  pupil,  than  he  can  digest  for 
him,  or  walk  for  him.  The  pupil  must  owe  everything 
to  his  own  exertions,  which  it  is  the  function  of  the 
master  to  encourage  and  direct.  Perhaps  this  may 
seem   very  obvious  truth,  but   obvious  or  not  it  has 

♦  This  assertion  is  probably  too  strong.  Mozart  would  have  learnl 
to  play  (and  he  could  onlj  have  played  zve/l)  on  the  violin  and  piano, 
if  he  had  been  shut  up  by  himself  with  those  instruments.  But  he 
would  not  have  learnt  so  rapidly  or  so  well  as  if  he  had  been  shown 
how  to  set  to  work.  His  fingering  would  always  ha\2  been  clumsy  : 
he  would  have  been  hampered  by  a  bad  mechanism  in  his  violin- 
playing,  and  he  would  have  had  a  wretched  "  bow-arm  " 


DIDACTIC   TEACHING.  207 

heeii  very  generally  neglected.  The  Jesuits,  who  were 
the  best  masters  of  the  old  school,  did  little  beyond 
communicating  facts,  and  insisting  on  their  pupils 
committing  these  facts  to  memory.  Their  system  o( 
lecturing  has  indeed  now  passed  away,  and  boys  are 
left  to  acquire  facts  from  school-books  instead  of  from 
the  master.  But  this  change  is  merely  accidental. 
The  essence  of  the  teaching  still  remains.  Even 
where  the  master  does  not  confine  himself  to  hearing 
what  the  scholars  have  learnt  by  heart,  he  seldom 
does  more  than  offer  explanations.  He  measures 
the  teaching  rather  by  the  amount  which  has  been 
put  before  the  scholars — by  what  he  has  done  for  them 
and  shown  them — than  by  what  they  have  learned. 
But  this  is  not  teaching  of  the  highest  type.  When 
the  votary  of  Dullness  in  the  "  Dunclad"  is  rendering 
an  account  of  his  services,  he  arrives  at  this  climax  • 

For  thee  explain  a  thing  till  all  men  doubt  it, 
And  write  about  it,  Goddess,  and  about  it. 

And  in  the  same  spirit  Mr.  Wilson  stigmatizes  as 
synonymous  *'the  most,  stupid  and  most  didactic 
teaching." 

All  the  eminent  authorities  on  education  have  a 
very  different  theory  of  the  teacher's  function  '*  Edu- 
cation," says  Pestalozzi,  *'  instead  of  merely  consider- 
ing what  is  to  be  imparted  to  children,  ought  to 
consider  first  what  they  already  possess,  not  merely 
their  developed  faculties,  but  also  their  innate  facul- 
ties capable  of  development."  The  master's  attention, 
then,  is  not  to  be  fixed  on  his  own  mind  and  his  own 
store  of  knowledge,  but  on  his  pupil's  mind  and  on 
its  gradual  expansion.     He  must,  in  fact,  be  not  so 


2o8  JACOTOT. 

much  a  teacher  us  a  trainer.  Here  we  have  the  view 
which  Jacotot  intended  to  enforce  by  his  paradox  ;  foi 
we  may  possibly  train  facuhies  which  we  do  not  our- 
selves possess.  Sayers'  trainer  brought  up  his  man  to 
face  Heenan,  but  he  could  not  have  done  so  himself 
The  sportsman  trains  his  pointer  and  his  hunter  to  per- 
form feats  which  are  altogether  out  of  the  range  of 
his  own  capacities.  Now,  "  training  is  the  cultivation 
bestowed  on  any  set  of  faculties  with  the  object  of 
developing  them"  (Wilson),  and  to  train  any  faculty, 
you  must  set  it  to  work.  Hence  it  follows,  that  as 
boys'  minds  are  not  simply  their  memories,  the  master 
must  aim  at  something  more  than  causing  his  pupils 
to  remember  facts.  Jacotot  has  done  good  service  to 
education  by  giving  prominence  to  this  truth,  and  by 
showing  in  his  method  how  other  faculties  may  be 
cultivated  besides  the  memory. 

"  Tout  est  dans  tout "  ("Ail  is  in  all"),  is  another  of 
Jacotot's  paradoxes.  I  do  not  propose  discussing  il 
as  the  philosophical  thesis  which  takes  other  forms, 
as  "  Every  man  is  a  microcosm,"  etc.,  but  merely  to 
inquire  into  its  meaning  as  applied  to  didactics. 

If  you  asked  an  ordinary  Frenchman  who  Jacotot 
was,  he  would  probably  answer,  Jacotot  was  a  man 
who  thought  you  could  learn  everything  by  getting 
up  F6nelon's  "  T6l6miique  "  by  heart.  By  carrying 
your  investigation  further,  you  would  find  that  this  ac- 
count of  him  required  modification,  that  the  learning 
by  heart  was  only  part,  and  a  very  small  part,  of 
what  Jacotot  demanded  from  his  pupils,  but  you  would 
also  find  that  entire  mastery  of  "  T6l6maque"  was  his 
first  requisite,  and  that  he  managed  to  connect  every- 
thing he  taught  with  that  "  model-book."     Of  course, 


•♦TOUT   EST   DANS   TOUT."  209 

if  "  tout  est  dans  tout,"  everything  Is  in  T6l6maque  ;* 
and,  said  an  objector,  also   in  the  first  book  of  T616- 
maque,"  and  in  thcfii'st  -word.     Jacotot  went  through 
a  variety  of  subtilities  to  show  that  all  ♦♦  T6l6maque "' 
is  contained   in  the  word    Calypso,,  and  perhaps   he 
would  have  been  equally  successful,  if  he  had  been 
required  to  take  only  the  first    letter  instead  of  the 
first  word.     The  reader  is  amused  rather  than  con- 
vinced   by  these  discussions,  but  he  finds  them  not 
without  fruit.     They  bring  to  his  mind  very  forcibly  a 
truth  to  which  he  has  hitherto  probably  not  paid  suffi- 
cient attention.     He  sees  that  all  knowledge  is  con- 
nected together,  or  (what  will  do  equally  well  for  our 
present  purpose)  that  there  are  a  thousand  links  by 
which  we  may  bring  into  connection  the  different  sub- 
jects of  knowledge.     If  by  means  of  these  links  we 
can  attach  in  our  minds  the  knowledge  we  acquire  to 
the  knowledge  we  already  possess,  we  shall  learn 
(aster  and  more  intelligently,  and  at  the  same  time  we 
shall  have  a  much  better  chance  of  retaining  our  new 
acquisitions.    The  memory,  as  we  all  know,  is  assisted 
even  by  artificial  association  of  ideas,  much  more  by 
natural.     Hence  the  value  of  "  tout  est  dans  tout,"  or, 
to  adopt  a  modification  suggested  by  Mr.  Payne,  of 
the  connection  of   knowledge.      Suppose  we  know 
only    one    subject,    but   know   that   tiioroughly,    our 
knowledge,  if  I  may  express  myself  algebraically,  can 
not  be  represented  by  ignorance  plus  the  knowledge 
of  that  subject.     We  have  acquired  a  great  deal  more 
than  that.     When  other  subjects  come  before  us,  they 
may  prove  to  be  so  connected  with  what  we  had  be- 
fore, that  we  may  almost  seem  to  know  them  already. 

In  other  words,  when  we   know  a  little  thoroughly, 
18 


2IO  JACOTOT. 

though  our  actual  possession  is  small,  we  have  poten- 
tially a  great  deal  more.      (See  Appendix,  p.  315.) 

Jacotot's  practical  application  of  his  "  tout  est  dans 
tout"  was  as  follows:  '•'■  II  faut  apprendre  quclqut 
chose,  et  y  rapporter  tout  le  rcste.'^  ("The  pupil 
must  learn  something  thoroughly,  and  refer  every 
thing  to  that.")  For  language  he  must  take  a  model 
book,  and  become  thoroughly  master  of  it.  His  knowl- 
edge must  not  be  a  verbal  knowledge  only,  but  he  must 
enter  into  the  sense  and  spirit  of  the  writer.  Here  we 
find  that  Jacotot's  practical  advice  coincides  with  that  of 
many  other  great  authorities,  who  do  not  base  it  on  the 
same  principle.  The  Jesuits'  maxim  was,  that  their 
pupils  should  always  learn  something  thoroughly,  how- 
ever little  it  might  be.  Pestalozzi,  as  I  have  mentioned, 
insisted  on  the  children  going  over  the  elements 
again  and  again  till  they  were  completely  master  of 
them.  "  Not  only,"  says  he,  "  have  the  first  elements 
of  knowledge  in  every  subject  the  most  important 
bearing  on  its.  complete  outline ;  but  the  child's 
confidence  and  interest  are  gained  by  perfect  attain- 
ment even  in  the  lowest  stage  of  instruction."  Ascham, 
Ratich,  and  Comenius  all  required  a  model-book  to  be 
read  and  re-read  till  words  and  thoughts  were  firmly 
fixed  in  the  pupil's  memory.  'Jacotot  probably  never 
read  Ascham's  '•  Schoolmaster."  If  he  had  done  so, 
he  might  have  appropriated  some  of  Ascham's  words 
as  exactly  conveying  his  own  thoughts.  Ascham,  as 
we  saw,  recommended  that  a  short  book  should  be 
thoroughly  mastered,  each  lesson  being  worked  over 
in  different  ways  a  dozen  times  at  the  least.  "Thus 
is  learned  easily,  sensibly,  by  little  and  little,  not  only 
all  the   hard  congruities  of  grammar,  the  choice  of 


THE    MODEL-BOOK.  211 


aptest  words,  the  right  framing  of  words  and  sen- 
tences, comeliness  of  figures,  and  forms  fit  for  ever} 
matter  and  proper  for  every  tongue  ;  but  that  which 
is  greater  also — in  marking  daily  and  following  dili- 
gently thus  the  best  authors,  like  invention  of  argu- 
ments, like  order  in  disposition,  like  utterance  in  elo- 
cution, is  easily  gathered  up;  whereby  30ur  scholar 
shall  be  brought  not  only  to  like  eloquence,  but  also 
to  all  true  understanding  and  right  judgment,  both  for 
writing  and  speaking."  The  voice  seems  Jacotot's 
voice,  ihough  the  hand  is  the  hand  of  Ascham. 

But  if  Jacotot  agrees  so  far  with  earlier  authorities, 
there  is  one  point  in  which  he  seems  to  differ  from 
them.  He  makes  great  demands  on  the  memory,  and 
requires  six  books  of  "Telemaque"  to  be  learned  by 
heart.  On  the  other  hand,  Montaigne  said,  "  Savoir 
par  cceur  est  ne  pas  savoir ;"  which  is  echoed  by  Rous- 
seau, H.  Spencer,  etc.  Ratich  required  that  nothing 
should  be  learnt  by  heart.  Protests  against  "  loading 
the  memory,"  ♦'  saying  without  book,"  etc.,  are  every 
where  to  be  met  with,  and  nowhere  more  vigorousl} 
expressed  than  in  Ascham.  He  says  of  the  grammar 
school  boys  of  his  time,  that  "  their  whole  knowl 
edge,  by  learning  without  the  book,  was  tied  only  to 
dieir  tongue  and  lips,  and  never  ascended  up  to  the 
brain  and  head,  and  therefore  was  soon  spit  out  of  the 
mouth  again.  They  learnt  without  book  everything, 
they  understood  within  the  book  little  or  nothing."  But 
these  protests  were  really  directed  at  verbal  knowledge, 
when  it  is  made  to  take  the  place  of  knowledge  of  the 
thing  signified.  We  are  always  too  ready  to  suppose 
that  words  are  connected  with  ideas,  though  both  old 


212  JACOTOT. 

and  young  are  constantly  exposing  themselves  to  the 
sarcasm  of  Mephistopheles  : — 

.  .  .  eben  wo  Begriffe  fehlen, 

Da  stellt  ein  Wort  zur  rechten  Zeit  sich  ein.* 

Against  this  danger  Jacotot  took  special  precautions. 
The  pupil  was  to  undergo  an  examination  in  every- 
tiiing  connected  with  the  lesson  learnt,  and  the  mas- 
ter's share  in  the  work  was  to  convince  himself,  from 
the  answers  he  received,  that  thi  pupil  thoroughly 
grasped  the  meaning,  as  well  as  remembered  the 
words,  of  the  author.  Still  the  six  books  of  '*  Tele- 
maque,"  which  Jacotot  gave  to  be  learnt  by  heart,  was 
a  very  large  dose,  and  Mr.  Payne  is  of  opinion  that 
he  would  have  been  more  faithful  to  his  own  princi- 
ples if  he  had  given  the  first  book  only. 

There  are  three  ways  in  which  the  model-book 
may  be  studied,  ist.  It  may  be  read  through  rapidly 
again  and  again,  which  was  Ratich's  plan  and  Ham- 
ilton's;  or,  2d,  each  lesson  may  be  thoroughly  mas- 
tered, read  in  various  ways  a  dozen  times  at  the  least, 
which  was  Ascham's  plan ;  or,  3d,  the  pupil  may 
begin  always  at  the  beginning,  and  advance  a  little 
further  each  time,  which  was  Jacotot's  plan.  This 
last  could  not,  of  course,  be  carried  very  far.  The 
repetitions,  when  ihe  pupil  had  got  on  some  way  in 
the  book,  could  not  always  be  from  the  beginning ; 
still  every  part  was  to  be  repeated  so  frequently  thai 
nothing  could  be  forgotten.  Jacotot  did  not  wish  hia 
pupils  to  learn  simply  in  order  to  forget,  but  to  leani 

*  .  .  .  just  where  meaning  fails,  a  word 
Comes  patly  in  to  serve  your  turn. 

Theodore  Martin  i  Trans, 


WHAT   WE   GAIN   BY    LEARNING.  213 


\\.  j.uc.r  to  remember  forever.  *'We  are  learned," 
saiiJ  1j(  ,  "not  so  far  as  we  have  learned,  but  only  so 
far  as  vve  remember.''  He  seems,  indeed,  almost  to 
ignore  the  fact  that  the  act  of  learning  serves  other 
purposes  ll.an  that  of  making  learned,  and  to  asser 
that  t )  forp^et  is  the  same  as  never  to  have  learned, 
which  is  a  palpable  error.  We  necessarily  forget 
much  that  pasdes  through  our  minds,  and  yet  its  efl'ect 
remains.  All  grown  people  have  arrived  at  some 
opinions,  convections,  knowledge,  but  they  can  not 
call  to  mind  every  spot  they  trod  on  in  the  road 
thither.  When  we  have  read  a  great  history,  say,  or 
traveled  through  a  fresh  country,  we  have  gained 
more  than  the  number  of  facts  we  happen  to  remem- 
ber. The  mind  seems  to  have  formed  an  acquaintance 
with  that  history  or  that  country,  which  is  something 
different  from  the  mere  acquisition  of  facts.  More 
over,  our  interests,  as  well  as  our  ideas,  may  long 
survive  the  memory  of  the  facts  which  originally 
started  them.  We  are  told  that  one  of  the  old  judges, 
when  a  barrister  objected  to  some  dictum  of  his,  put 
him  down  by  the  assertion,  "  Sir,  I  have  forgotten 
more  law  than  ever  you  read."  If  he  wished  to  make 
the  amount  forgotten  a  measure  of  the  amount  remem- 
bered, this  was  certainly  fallacious,  as  the  ratio  be- 
tween the  two  is  not  a  constant  quantity.  But  he  may 
have  meant  that  this  extensive  reading  had  left  its 
result,  and  that  he  could  see  things  from  more  point 
of  view  than  the  less  traveled  legal  vision  of  his  oppo* 
nent.  That  power  acquired  by  learning  may  also 
last  longer  than  the  knowledge  of  the  thing  learned 
is  sufficiently  obvious. 

The    advantages    derived    from    having    learnt   a 


214  JACOTOT. 

thing  are,  then,  not  entirely  lost  when  the  thing  itself 
is  forgotten.  This  leads  me  to  speak,  though  at  the 
risk  of  a  digression,  on  the  present  state  of  opinion 
on  this  matter.  In  setting  about  the  study  of  any 
subject,  we  may  desire  (i)  the  knowledge  of  that  sub- 
ject; or  (2)  the  mental  vigor  derivable  from  learning 
it ;  or  (3)  we  may  hope  to  combine  these  advantages. 
Now,  in  spite  of  the  aphorism  which  connects  knowl- 
edge and  power  together,  we  find  that  these  have 
become  the  badges  of  opposite  parties.  One  party 
would  make  knowledge  the  end  of  education.  Mr 
Spencer  assumes  as  a  law  of  nature  that  the  study 
which  conveys  useful  knowledge  must  also  give  men- 
tal vigor,  so  he  considers  that  the  object  of  educa- 
tion should  be  to  impart  useful  knowledge,  and  teach 
us  in  what  way  to  treat  the  body,  to  treat  the  mind,  to 
manage  our  affairs,  to  bring  up  a  family,  to  behave  as 
a  citizen,  etc.,  etc.  The  old  school,  on  the  other  hand, 
which  I  ma}'  call  the  English  party,  as  it  derives  its 
strength  from  some  of  the  peculiar  merits  and  demerits 
of  the  English  character,  heartily  despises  knowledge, 
and  would  make  the  end  of  education  power  only. 
'  Conf.Wi&sQ,  infra,  p.  318.) 

As  the  most  remarkable  outcome  of  this  idea  of 
education,  we  have  the  Cambridge  mathematical 
tripos. 

The  typical  Cambridge  man  studies  mathematics, 
not  because  he  likes  mathematics,  or  derives  any 
pleasure  from  the  perception  of  mathematical  truth, 
still  less  with  the  notion  of  ever  using  his  knowledge  ; 
but  either  because,  if  he  is  *'  a  good  man,"  he  hopes 
for  a  fellowship,  or  because,  if  he  can  not  aspire  so 
high,  he  considers  reading  the  thing  to  do,  and  finds 


THE   MATHEMATICAL   MAN.  215 

a  satisfaction  in  mental  effort  just  as  he  does  in  a  con- 
stitutional to  the  Gogmagogs.  When  such  a  student 
takes  his  degree,  he  is  by  no  means  a  highly  cultivated 
man  ;  but  he  is  not  the  sort  of  a  man  we  can  despise 
for  all  that.  He  has  in  him,  to  use  one  of  his  own 
metaphors,  a  considerable  amount  o{  force ^  which  may 
be  applied  in  any  direction.  He  has  great  power  of 
concentration  and  sustained  mental  effort  even  on  sub- 
jects which  are  distasteful  to  him.  In  other  words, 
his  mind  is  under  the  control  of  his  will,  and  he  can 
bring  it  to  bear  promptly  and  vigorously  on  anything 
put  before  him.  He  will  sometimes  be  half  through 
a  piece  of  work,  while  -an  average  Oxonian  (as  we 
Cambridge  men  conceive  of  him  at  least)  is  thinking 
about  beginning.  But  his  training  has  taught  him  to 
value  mental  force  without  teaching  him  to  care  about 
its  application.  Perhaps  he  has  been  'working  at  the 
gymnasium,  and  has  at  length  succeeded  in  "  putting 
up  **  a  hundredweight.  In  learning  to  do  this,  he  has 
been  acquiring  strength  tor  its  own  sake.  He  does 
not  want  to  put  up  hundredweights,  but  simply  to  be 
able  to  put  them  up,  and  his  reward  is  the  conscious- 
ness of  power.  Now  the  tripos  is  a  kind  of  competi- 
tive examination  in  putting  up  weights.  The  student 
who  has  been  training  for  it,  has  acquired  considerable 
mental  vigor,  and  when  he  has  put  up  his  weight 
he  falls  back  on  the  consciousness  of  strength  which  he 
seldom  thinks  of  using.  Having  put  up  the  heavier, 
he  despises  the  lighter  weights.  He  rather  prides 
himself  on  his  ignorance  of  such  things  as  history, 
modern  languages,  and  English  literature.  He  **  can 
get  those  up  in  a  few  evenings,"  whenever  he  wants 
them.     He  reminds  me,  indeed,  of  a  tradesman  who 


}l6  JACOTOT. 

has  worked  hard  to  have  a  large  balance  at  his 
banker's.  This  done,  he  is  satisfied.  He  has  neither 
taste  nor  desire  for  the  things  which  make  weaUh  val- 
uable ;  but  when  he  sees  other  people  in  the  enjoy- 
inent  of  them,  he  hugs  himself  with  the  consciousness 
that  he  can  write  a  check  for  such  things  whenever  he 
pleases. 

I  confess  that  this  outcome  of  the  English  theory 
of  education  does  not  seem  to  me  altogether  satisfac- 
tory. But  w^  have,  as  yet,  no  means  of  judging  whal 
will  be  the  outcome  of  the  other  theory  which  makes 
knowledge  the  end  of  education.  Its  champions  con- 
fine themselves  at  present  to  advising  that  a  variety  of 
sciences  be  taught  to  boys,  and  maintain  a  rather 
perplexing  silence  as  to  how  to  teach  them.  Mr. 
Spencer,  as  we  have  seen,  requires  that  a  boy  should 
be  taught  "how  to  behave  in  every  relation  of  man- 
hood, and  he  also  tells  us  how  to  teach — elementary 
geometry.  Still  these  advocates  of  knowledge  are 
acquiring  a  considerable  amount  of  influence,  and 
there  seems  reason  to  fear  lest  halting  between  the  two 
theories,  our  education,  instead  of  combining  knowl- 
edge and  power,  should  attain  to  neither. 

Our  old-fashioned  school-teaching,  confined  as  it 
was  to  a  grammatical  drill  in  the  classical  languages, 
did  certainly  give  something  of  the  power  which 
comes  from  concentrated  efibrt.  The  Eton  Latin 
Grammar  does  not  indeed  seem  to  me  a  well-selected 
model-book,  but  many  a  man  has  found  the  value  of 
knowing  even  that  book  thoroughly.  Now,  however, 
a  cry  has  been  raised  for  useful  information.  It  is 
.shameful,  we  are  told,  that  a  boy  leaving  school  should 
not  know  the  names  of  the  capitals  of  Europe,  and 


KNOWLEDGE    VS.    POWER.  21^ 


should  never  have  heard  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  and 
the  Bill  of  Rights,  etc.,  etc.  The  schoolmaster  is  be- 
ginning to  give  way.  He  adm.ts  homoeopathic  doses 
of  geographical,  historical,  and  scientific  epitomes 
and  of  modern  languages :  and  perhaps  between 
IhevSe  stools  the  unlucky  schoolboy  will  come  to  the 
ground  ;  his  accurate  knowledge  (;f  Latin  grammai 
will  be  exchanged  (or  "  some  notion"  of  a  variety  of 
things,  and  in  the  end  his  condition  will  be  best  de-- 
scribed  by  varying  a  famous  sarcasm,  and  saying, 
that  if  he  knew  a  little  of  good  hard  work,  he  would 
know  a  little  of  everything. 

The  reader  will  by  this  time  begin  to  suspect  that 
I  am  an  educational  Tory  after  all,  even  a  reactionary 
Tory.  This  I  deny,  but  I  am  probably  not  free  from 
those  prejudices  which  beset  Englishmen,  especially 
Cambridge  men  and  schoolmasters,  and  I  confess  I 
look  with  dismay  on  the  effort  which  is  being  made  to 
introduce  a  large  number  of  subjects  into  our  school- 
course,  and  set  up  knowledge  rather  than  power  as 
the  goal  of  education.* 

But  can  not  these  be  combined?  May  we  not  teach 
such  subjects  as  shall  give  useful  knowledge  and 
power  too?  On  this  point  the  philosopher  and  the 
schoolmaster  are  at  issue.  The  philosopher  says,  It 
is  desirable  that  we  should  have  the  knowledge  of 

*  In  this  matter  the  testimony  of  Lord  Stanley  is  very  valuable. 
•'  If  teaching  is,  as  I  believe,  better  on  the  whole  in  the  higher  than 
in  the  lower  classes  [of  society]  it  is  chiefly  on  this  account -not 
that  more  is  taught  at  an  early  age,  but  less  ;  that  time  is  taken,  that 
the  waP  is  not  run  up  in  haste ;  that  the  bricks  are  set  on  carefully, 
and  the  mortar  allowed  time  to  dry.  And  so  the  structure,  whethei 
high  or  low,  is  likely  to  stand."  (From  a  speech  reported  in  the 
Evening  Mail,  December  9,  1S64.) 

9 


^id 


JACOTOf. 


such  and  such  sciences — therefore  teach  them.  The 
schoolmaster  sa3's,  It  may  be  desirable  to  know  those 
sciences,  but  boys  can  not  learn  them.  The  knowl- 
edge  acquired  by  boys  will  never  be  very  valua- 
ble in  itself.  We  must,  therefore,  consider  it  a 
means  rather  than  an  end.  We  must  think  first  of 
mental  discipline  ;  for  this  boys  must  thoroughly  mas- 
ter what  they  learn,  and  this  thoroughness  abso- 
lutely requires  that  the  young  mind  should  be 
applied  to  very  few  subjects  ;  and,  though  we  are  quite 
ready  to  discuss  which  subjects  afford  the  best  mental 
training,  we  can  not  allow  classics  to  be  thrust  out  till 
some  other  subjects  have  been  proved  worthy  to  reign 
in  their  stead. 

Unless  I  am  mistaken,  the  true  ground  of  complaint 
against  the  established  education  is,  that  it  fails  to 
give,  not  knowledge,  but  the  desire  of  knowledge.  A 
literary  education  which  leaves  no  love  of  reading  be- 
hind, can  not  be  considered  entirely  successful. 

As  I  have  said  elsewhere,  I  would  admit  a  natural 
science  into  the  curriculum  in  order  to  give  the  mind 
some  training  in  scientific  processes,  and  some  interest 
in  scientific  truth.  I  would  also  endeavor  to  cultivate 
a  fondness  for  English  literature*  and  the  fine  arts ; 
but,  whatever  the  subject  taught,  I  consider  that,  for 
educational  purposes,  the  power  and  the  desire  to  ac- 
quire knowledge,  are  to  be  valued  far  before  knowl- 
edge itsell. 

How  does  this  conclusion  bear  upon  the  matter  I  sei 
out  with,  the  function  of  memory  in  education? 


*  The  claims  of  English  literature  in  education  nave  been  urged 
by  Professor  Seeley  with  a  force  which  seems  to  me  irresistible 
'See  Mactnillan's  Magazine  for  November,  1867.) 


THE   MEMORY.  219 


Classicists,  scientific  men,  and  all  others,  are  agroed 
about  the  value  of  memory,  and  must  therefore  desire 
that  its  powers  should  not  be  squandered  on  the  learn- 
ing of  facts  which,  for  want  of  repetition,  will  be  soon 
lost,  or  lacts  which  will  prove  of  little  value  if  retained. 
But  in  estimating  facts,  we  must  think  rather  vf  their 
educational  value  than  of  their  bearing  upon  after-life. 
W^  must  make  the  memory  a  storehouse  of  such  facta 
as  are  good  material  for  the  other  powers  of  the  mind 
to  work  with,  and,  that  the  facts  may  serve  this  pur- 
pose, they  musl  be  such  as  the  mind  can  thoroughly 
grasp  and  handle,  and  such  as  may  be  connected  to- 
gether. "To  instruct,"  as  Mi.  Payne  reminds  us,  is 
t'nstruere,  "  to  put  together  in  order,  to  build  or  con- 
struct." We  must  be  careful,  then,  not  to  cram  the 
mind  with  isolated,  or  as  Mr.  Spencer  calls  them,  tin- 
organizable  facts — such  facts,  e.  g.,  as  are  taught  to 
young  ladies.* 

♦  I  do  not  pretend  myself  to  have  fathomed  the  mystery  of  what 
is  taught  to  young  ladies,  but  I  follow  the  best  authorities  on  the 
subject  "  '  I  can  not  remember  the  time,'  said  Maria  Bertram, 
'  when  I  did  not  know  a  great  deal  that  Fanny  has  not  the  least  no- 
tion oi yet.  How  long  ago  is  it,  aunt,  since  we  used  to  repeat  the  chro- 
nological order  of  the  kings  of  England,  with  the  dates  of  their  ac- 
cessions, and  most  of  the  principal  events  of  their  reigns?'  *  Yes,' 
added  Julia,  '  and  of  the  Roman  emperors  as  low  as  Severus,  besides 
a  great  deal  of  the  heathen  mythology,  and  all  the  metals,  semi- 
metals',  planets,  and  distinguished  philosophers.'  •  Very  true,  in- 
deed, my  dears,'  replied  the  aunt,  '  but  you  are  blessed  with  wonder- 
ful memories  .  .  .  Remember  that  if  you  are  ever  so  forward  and 
clever  yourselves,  you  should  always  be  modest;  for,  much  as  you 
know  already,  there  is  a  great  deal  more  for  you  to  learn.'  '  Yes,  1 
know  there  is,' said  Julia,  'till  I  am  seventeen.'"  (Miss  Austen's 
Mansfield  Perk.)  And,  fortunately  for  the  human  race,  the  knowl- 
edge vanishes  away  as  soon  as  that  grand  climacteric  is  passed, 
tliough  perhaps  we  must  regret  that  oflen  nothing  but  sheer  vacuity 
is  lefl  in  its  place. 


220  JACOTOT. 

A  great  deal  of  our  children's  memory  is  wasted  in 
storing  facts  of  this  kind,  which  can  never  form  part 
of  any  rrganism.  We  do  not  teach  them  geography 
{earth-knowledge^  as  the  Germans  call  it),  but  the 
names  of  places.  Our  "  history"  is  a  similar,  though 
disconnected  study.  We  leave  our  children  ignorant 
of  the  land,  but  insist  on  their  getting  up  the  "  land- 
marks." And,  perhaps,  from  a  latent  perception  of 
the  uselessness  of  such  work,  neither  teachers  nor 
scholars  ever  think  of  these  things  as  learnt  to  be  re- 
membered. Latin  grammar  is  gone  •through  again 
and  again,  and  a  boy  feels  that  the  sooner  he  gets  it 
into  his  head,  the  belter  it  will  be  for  him  ;  but  who 
expects  that  the  lists  of  geographical  and  historical 
names  which  are  learnt  one  half-year,  will  be  remem- 
bered the  next?  I  have  seen  it  asserted,  that  when  a 
boy  leaves  school,  he  has  already  forgotten  nine-tenths 
of  what  he  has  been  taught,  and  I  dare  say  that  esti- 
mate is  quite  within  the  mark. 

By  adopting  the  principles  of  Jacotot,  we  shall  avoid 
a  great  deal  of  this  waste.  We  shall  give  some 
thorough  knowledge,  with  which  fresh  knowledge  may 
be  connected. 

Perfect  familiarity  with  a  subject  is  something  be- 
yond the  mere  understanding  it,  and  being  able,  with 
difficulty,  to  reproduce  what  we  have  learned.  A 
Cambridge  man,  getting  up  book-work  for  the  tripos, 
does  not  indeed  attempt  to  learn  it  by  heart,  without 
understanding  it ;  but  when  his  mind  has  thoroughly 
mastered  the  steps  of  the  reasoning,  he  goes  over  it 
again  and  again,  till  he  uses,  in  fact,  hardly  any  faculty 
but  his  memory  in  writing  it  out.  If  he  has  to  think 
during  the  operation,  he  considers  that  piece  of  book- 


ADVANTAGES  OF  THOROUGH   KNOWLEDGE.      221 

work  not  properly  got  up.*  By  thus  going  over  the 
same  thing  again  and  again,  we  acquire  a  thorough 
command  over  our  knowledge,  and  the  feeling  per* 
t'ectly  at  home,  even  within  narrow  borders,  gives  a 
consciousness  of  strength.  An  old  adage  tells  us  that 
the  Jack-of-all-trades  is  master  of  none ;  but  the 
master  of  one  trade  will  have  no  difficulty  in  extend- 
ing his  insight  and  capacity  beyond  it.  To  i:se  an 
illustration,  which  is  of  course  an  illustration  merely, 
I  would  kindle  knowledge  in  children,  like  fire  in  a 
grate.  A  stupid  servant,  with  a  small  quantity'  of 
wood,  spreads  it  over  the  whole  grate.  It  blazes  away, 
goes  out,  and  is  simply  wasted.  Another,  who  is 
wiser  or  more  experienced,  kindles  the  whole  of  the 
wood  at  one  spot,  and  the  fire,  thus  concentrated,  ex 
tends  in  all  direction^.  Thus  would  I  concentrate  the 
beginning  of  knowledge,  and  although  I  could  not 
expect  to  make  much  show  for  a  time,  I  should  trust 
that  afterward  the  fire  would  extend,  almost  of  its  own 
accord. 

*  As  an  instance  of  the  use  of  memory  in  mathematics,  and  also 
of  thfe  power  acquired  by  perfect  attainment,  I  may  mention  a  case 
wiiich  came  under  my  own  observation.  A  '*  three  days  "  man,  not 
by  any  means  remarkable  for  mathematical  ability,  had  got  up  the 
book-work  of  his  subjects  very  exactly,  but  had  never  done  a  prob- 
lem. In  the  three  days'  problem  paper,  to  his  no  small  surprise,  he 
got  out  several  of  them.  A  friend  who  was  afterward  a  good 
wrangler,  ventured  to  doubt  his  having  done  a  particular  problem. 
"  It  came  out  very  easily,"  said  the  three  days'  man,  '*  from  such  and 
such  a  formula."  "  You  are  right,"  said  the  wrangler,  *'  I  worked  it 
out  in  a  much  more  clumsy  way  myself.  /  never  thought  of  that 
formula."  1  may  mention  here  a  fact  which,  whether  it  is  a  propos 
or  not,  will  be  interesting  to  musicians.  The  late  Professor  Wal- 
misley,  of  Cambridge,  told  me  that  when  his  godfather  Attwood 
was  Mozart's  pupil,  Mozart  always  had  liach's  Forty-eight  Prelude* 
and  Fugues  on  his  piano,  and  hardly  played  anything  else. 


222  JACOTOT. 

I  proceed  to  give  Jacotot's  directions  for  carrying  oul 
the  rule,  "  II  faut  apprendre  quelque  chose,  et  y  rap- 
porter  tout  le  reste." 

I.  Learn — i.  e.,  learn  so  as  to  know  thoroughly, 
perfectly,  immovably  {ttnj)crlurbablcment) ,  as  well  six 
months  or  twelve  months  hence,  as  now — something 
— something  which  fairly  re^tresents  the  subject  to  be 
acquired,  which  contains  its  essential  characteristics. 
2.  Repeat  that  "  something"  incessantly  {sans  cesse), 
i.  e.,  every  day,  or  very  frequently,  from  the  begin- 
ning without  any  omission,  so  that  no  part  may  be  for- 
gotten. 3.  Reflect  upon  the  matter  thus  acquired, 
so  as  by  degrees  to  make  it  a  posseswsion  of  the  mind 
as  well  as  of  the  memory,  so  that,  being  appreciated 
as  a  whole,  and  appreciated  in  its  minutest  parts, 
what  is  as  yet  unknown,  may  be  referred  to  it  and  in- 
terpreted by  it.  4.  Verify,  or  test,  general  remarks, 
e.  g.,  grammatical  rules,  etc.,  made  by  others,  by  com- 
paring them  with  the  facts  (i.  e.,  the  words  and  phrase- 
ology) which  you  have  learnt  yourself.* 

In  conclusion,  I  will  give  some  account  of  the  way 
in  which  reading,  writing,  and  the  mother-tongue 
were  taught  on  the  Jacototian  system. 

The  teacher  takes  a  book,  say  Edgeworth's  "  Early 
Lessons,"  points  to  the  first  word,  and  names  it, 
*'  Frank."  The  child  looks  at  the  word  and  also  pro- 
nounces it.  Then  the  teacher  does  the  same  with  the 
first  two  words,  "Frank  and;"  then  wiih  the  three 
first,  "Frank  and  Robert,"  etc.  When  a  line  or  so 
has  been  thus  gone  over,  the  teacher  asl^s  which 
word    is    Robert?     What    word    is    that  (pointing    to 

*  \  take  this  paragraph  verbatim  from  Mr.  Payne. 


READING   AND    WRITING.  223 


one)?  'Find  me  the  same  word  in  this  line'  (point- 
ing to  another  part  of  ilie  book).  When  a  sentence 
has  been  thus  acquired,  the  words  aheady  known  are 
analyzed  ir.to  syllables,  and  these  syllables  the  child 
must  pick  out  elsewhere.  Finally,  the  same  thing  is 
done  with  letters.  When  the  child  can  read  a  sen- 
tence, that  sentence  is  put  before  him  written  iii 
small-hand,  and  the  child  is  required  to  copy  it. 
When  he  has  copied  the  first  word,  he  is  led,  by  the 
questions  of  the  teacher,  to  see  how  it  differs  from 
the  original,  and  then  he  tries  again.  The  pupil 
must  always  correct  himself,  guided  only  by  questions. 
This  sentence  must  be  worked  at  till  the  pupil  can 
write  it  pretty  well  from  memory.  He  then  tries  it 
in  larger  characters.  By  carrying  out  this  plan,  the 
children's  powers  of  observation  and  making  com- 
parisons are  strengthened,  and  the  'arts  of  reading 
and  writing  are  said  to  be  very  readily  acquired. 

For  the  mother-tongue,  a  model-book  is  chosen 
and  thoroughly  learned.  Suppose  "Rasselas"  is  se- 
lected. "  The  pupil  learns  by  heart  a  sentence,  or  a 
few  sentences,  and  to-morrow  adds  a  few  more,  still 
repeating  from  the  beginning.  The  teacher,  after 
two  or  three  lessons  of  learning  and  repeating,  takes 
portions — any  portion — of  the  matter,  and  submits 
it  to  the  crucible  of  the  pupil's  mind  ; — Who  was 
Rasselas?  Who»was  his  father?  What  is  the  father 
of  waters?  Where  does  it  begin  its  course?  Where 
is  Abyssinia?  Where  is  Egypt?  Where  was  Rasselas 
placed  ?  What  sort  of  a  person  was  Rasselas  ?  What 
is  '  credulity  ?'  What  are  the  '  whispers  of  fancy,' 
*  the  promises  of  youth,' etc.?  What  was  there  pe- 
culiar in  the  position  of    Rasselas?     Where  was  he 


224  JACOTOT. 

confined?  Describe  the  valley.  How  would  you 
have  liked  to  live  there?  Why  so?  Why  not? 
etc." 

A  great  variety  of  written  exercises  is  soon  joined 
with  the  learning  by  heart.  Pieces  must  be  written 
from  memory,  and  the  spelling,  pointing,  etc.,  cor- 
rected by  the  pupil  himself  from  the  book.  The  same 
piece  must  be  written  again  and  again,  till  there  are 
no  mistakes  to  correct.  "This,"  says  Mr.  Payne, 
who  has  himself  taught  in  this  way,  *'  is  the  best  plan 
for  spelling  that  has  been  devised."  Then  the  pupil 
may  write  an  analysis,  may  define  words,  distinguish 
between  synonyms,  explain  metaphors,  imitate  de- 
scriptions, write  imaginary  dialogues  or  correspond- 
ence between  the  characters,  etc. 

Besides  these,  a  great  variety  of  grammatical  exer- 
cises may  be  given,  and  the  force  of  prefixes  and  af- 
fixes may  be  found  out  by  the  pupils  themselves,  by 
collection  and  comparison.  "  The  resources  even  of 
such  a  book  as  '  Rasselas,'"  says  Mr.  Payne,  "will 
be  found  all  but  exhaustless,  while  the  training  which 
the  mind  undergoes  in  the  process  of  thoroughly  mas- 
tering it,  the  acts  of  analysis,  comparison,  induction, 
and  deduction,  performed  so  frequently  as  to  become 
a  sort  of  second  nature,  can  not  but  serve  as  an  excel- 
lent preparation  for  the  subsequent  study  of  English 
literature."  * 

We  see,  from'  these  instances,  how  Jacotot  sought 
to  imitate  the  method  by  which  young  children  and 
self-taught  men  teach  themselves.  All  such  proceed 
from  objects  to  definitions,  from  facts  to  reflections 
and  tneories,  from  examples  to  rules,  from  particular 
observations  to  general  principles.     They  pursue,  in 


METHOD    OF    INVESTIGATION.  225 

fact,  however  unconsciously,  the  method  of  invcsliga- 
tion^  the  advantages  of  which  are  thus  set  out  in  a 
passage  from  Burke's  treatise  on  the  Sublime  and 
Beautiful : — 

"I  am  convinced,"  says  he,  "that  the  method  of 
teaching  which  approaches  most  nearly  to  the  method 
of  investigation  is  incomparably  the  best ;  since,  not 
content  with  serving  up  a  few  barren  and  lifeless 
tiiiths,  it  leads  to  the  stock  on  which  they  grew ;  it 
tends  to  set  the  reader  [or  learner]  himself  in  the  track 
of  invention,  and  to  direct  him  into  those  paths  in 
which  the  author  has  made  his  own  discoveries." 

"For  Jacotot,  I  think  the  claim  may,  without  pre- 
sumption, be  maintained,  that  he  has,  beyond  all 
other  teachers,  succeeded  in  co-ordinating  the  method 
of  elementary  teaching  with  the  method  of  investi- 
gation" (Payne). 

The  latter  part  of  his  life,  which  did  not  end  till 
1840,  Jacotot  spent  in  his  native  country — first  at  Va- 
lenciennes, and  then  at  Paris.  To  the  last  he  labored 
indefatigably,  and  with  a  noble  disinterestedness,  for 
what  he  believed  to  be  the  "  intellectual  emancipation" 
of  his  fellow-creatures.  For  a  time,  his  system  made 
great  way  in  France,  but  the  practices  introduced  by 
it  were  probably  unworthy  of  its  principles,  and  have 
been  abandoned.  The  University  of  France,  in  1852, 
recommended  more  attention  to  its  principles  :*  but  I 

'  "  II  a  eto  ordonnfi  aux  protesseurs  d'instruire  leurs  olives  des  se- 
crets mouvements  de  la  pens^e,  non  plus  comme  autrefois,  par  de 
longues  expositions  qui  pouvaient  ne  mettre  en  travail  que  I'esprit 
du  professeur,  mais,  suivant  I'exemple  que  quelques  maitres  excel Ient§ 
ont  renouvele  de  Socrate,  par  des  interrogations  qui  k  chaque  in- 
stant font  participer  rintelligence  desoloves  a  I'analyse  et  pour  ainsi 
parler  ^  la  decouverte  des  lois  de  la  raison."    This  is  the  quotatioo 


226  JACOTOT. 

have  not  observed  any  reference  to  Jacotot  in  Mr.  Ar- 
nold's recent  report. 

from  the  Report  to  the  Emperor  in  1853,  o"  which  M.  Achille  Guil- 
lard  seems  to  found  the  assertion  in  the  text.  The  quotation,  how- 
ever, recommends  a  return  to  Socrates,  not  Jacotot — {NouvtUe  Bi- 
ografhie  Gindralt.     yacotot.) 


IX. 

HERBERT  SPENCER. 


I  ONCE  heard  it  said  by  a  teacher  of  great  ability 
that  no  one  without  practical  acquaintance  with  the 
subject  could  write  anything  worth  reading  on  Edu- 
cation. My  own  opinion  differs  very  widely  from 
this.  I  am  not,  indeed,  prepared  to  agree  with  an- 
other authority,  much  given  to  paradox,  that  the 
actual  work  of  education  unfits  a  man  for  forming 
enlightened  views  about  it,  but  I  think  that  the  out- 
sider, coming  fresh  to  the  subject^  and  unincum- 
bered by  tradition  and  prejudice,  may  hit  upon  truths 
which  the  teacher,  whose  attention  is  too  much  en- 
grossed with  practical  difficulties,  would  tail  to  per- 
ceive without  assistance,  and  that,  consequently,  the 
theories  of  intelligent  men,  unconnected  with  the 
work  of  education,  deserve  our  careful,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, our  impartial  consideration. 

One  of  the  most  important  works  of  this  kind 
which  has  lately  appeared,  is  the  treatise  of  Mr.  Her- 
bert Spencer.  So  eminent  a  writer  has  every  claim 
to  be  listened  to  with  respect,  and  in  this  book  he 
speaks  with  more  than  his  individual  authority.  Tlie 
views  he  has  very  vigorously  propounded  are  shared 
by  a  number  of  distinguished  scientific  men  ;  and  nof 
a  few  of  the  unscientific  believe  that  in  them  is 
shadowed  forth  the  education  of  the  future. 

(237) 


228  HERBERT    SPENCER. 

It  is  perhaps  to  be  regretted  that  Mr.  Spencer  has 
not  kept  the  tone  of  one  who  investigates  the  truth  in 
a  subject  of  great  difficulty,  but  lays  about  him  right 
and  left,  after  the  manner  of  a  spirited  controver- 
sialist. This,  no  doubt,  makes  his  book  much  more 
entertaining  reading  than  such  treatises  usually  are, 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  the  disadvantage  of 
arousing  the  antagonism  of  those  whom  he  would 
most  wish  to  influence.  When  the  man  who  has  no 
practical  acquaintance  with  education,  lays  down  the 
law  ex  cathcdrdi  garnished  with  sarcasm  at  all  that 
is  now  going  on,  the  schoolmaster,  offended  by  the 
assumed  tone  of  authority,  sets  himself  to  show  where 
these  theories  would  not  work,  instead  of  examining 
what  basis  of  truth  tliere  is  in  them,  and  how  far 
they  should  influence  his  own  practice. 

I  shall  proceed  to  examine  Mr.  Spencer's  proposals 
with  all  the  impartiality  I  am  master  of. 

The  great  question,  whether  the  teaching  which 
gives  the  most  valuable  knowledge  is  the  same  as 
that  which  best  disciplines  the  faculties  of  the  mind, 
Mr.  Spencer  dismisses  briefly.  "  It  would  be  utterly 
contrary  to  the  beautiful  economy  of  nature,"  he  says, 
'*  if  one  kind  of  culture  were  needed  for  the  gaining 
of  information,  and  another  kind  were  needed  as  a 
mental  gymnastic."  But  it  seems  to  me  that  dif- 
ferent subjects  must  be  used  to  train  the  faculties  at 
different  stages  of  development.  The  processes  of 
science,  which  form  the  staple  of  education  in  Mr. 
Spencer's  system,  can  not  be  grasped  by  the  intellect 
of  a  child.  "  The  scientific  discoverer  does,  the  work, 
and  when  it  is  done  the  schoolboy  is  called  in  to  wit- 
ness the  result,  to  learn  its  chief  features  by  heart,  and 


TRAINING    OF   THE    MIND.  229 


to  repeat  them  when  called  upon,  just  as  he  is  called 
•41  to  name  the  mothers  of  the  patriarchs,  or  to  give 
m  account  of  the  Eastern  campaigns  of  Alexander 
the  Great."  (^Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Feb.  8,  1867.) 
This,  however,  alftbrds  but  scanty  training  for  the 
mind.  We  want  to  draw  out  the  child's  interests,  and 
to  direct  them  to  worthy  objects.  We  want  not  only 
to  teach  him,  but  to  enable  and  encourage  him  to 
teach  himself;  and,  if  following  Mr.  Spencer's 
advice,  we  make  him  get  up  the  species  of  plants, 
'♦which  amount  to  some  320,000,"  and  the  varied 
forms  of  animal  life,  which  are  *' estimated  at  some 
2,000,000,"  we  may,  as  Mr.  Spencer  tells  us,  have 
strengthened  his  memory  as  efTectuall}'  as  by  teaching 
him  languages;  but  the  pupil  will,  perhaps,  have  no 
great  reason  to  rejoice  over  his  escape  from  the  horrors 
of  the  "As  in  Praesenti,"  and  "Propria  quae  Maribus." 
The  consequences  will  be  the  same  in  both  cases. 
We  shall  disgust  the  great  majority  of  our  scholars 
with  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  with  the  use 
of  the  powers  of  their  mind.  Whether,  therefore,  we 
adopt  or  reject  Mr.  Spencer's  conclusion,  that  there  is 
one  sort  of  knowledge  which  is  universally  the  most 
valuable,  I  think  we  must  deny  that  there  is  one  sort 
of  knowledge  which  is  universally,  and  at  every  stage 
in  education,  the  best  adapted  to  develop  the  intellec- 
tual faculties.  Mr.  Spencer  himself  acknowledges 
this  elsewhere.  "There  is,"  says  he,  "a  certain 
sequence  in  which  the  faculties  spontaneously  de- 
velop, and  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge,  which  each 
requires  during  its  development.  It  is  for  us  to  ascer- 
tain this  sequence,  and  supply  this  knowledge." 
Ml.   Spencer  discusses   more   fully   "the   relative 


230  HERBERT    SPENCER. 


value  of  knowledges,"  and  this  is  a  subject  which  has 
hitherto  not  met  with  the  attention  it  deserves.  It 
is  not  sufficient  for  us  to  prove  of  any  subject  taught 
in  our  schools  that  the  knowledge  or  the  learning  of 
It  is  valuable.  We  must  also  show  that  the  knowl- 
edge or  the  learning  of  it  is  of  at  least  as  great 
value  as  that  of  anything  else  that  might  be  taught 
in  the  same  time.  "  Had  we  time  to  master  all  sub- 
jects we  need  not  be  particular.  To  quote  the  old 
song — 

Could  a  man  be  secure 
That  his  life  would  endure, 
As  of  old  for  a  thousand  long  years, 
.  What  things  he  might  know! 
What  deeds  he  might  do ! 
And  all  without  hurry  or  care  I 

But  we  that  have  but  span-long  lives  must  ever  bear 
in  mind  our  limited  time  for  acquisition." 

To  test  the  value  of  tlie  learning  imparted  in  edu- 
cation we  must  look  to  the  end  of  education.  This 
Mr.  Spencer  defines  as  follows:  "To  prepare  us  for 
complete  living,  is  the  function  which  education  has 
to  discharge,  and  the  only  rational  mode  of  judging 
of  an  educational  course  is  to  judge  in  what  degree 
it  discharges  such  function."  For  complete  living 
we  must  know  "in  what  way  to  treat  the  body;  in 
what  way  to  treat  the  mind ;  in  what  way  to  manage 
our  affairs ;  in  what  way  to  bring  up  a  family ;  in 
what  way  to  behave  as  a  citizen  ;  in  what  wa}'  to  utilize 
those  sources  of  happiness  which  nature  supplies — ■ 
how  to  use  all  our  faculties  to  the  greatest  advantage 
of  ourselves  and  others."  There  are  a  number  ol 
sciences,  says  Mr.  Spencer,  which  throw  light  on  these 


WHAT   SHOULD    BE   TAUGHT  i?  231 

subjects.  It  should,  therefore,  be  the  business  of  edu- 
cation to  impart  these  sciences. 

But,  if  there  were  (which  is  far  from  being  the 
case)  a  well-defined  and  well-established  science  in 
each  of  these  departments,  those  sciences  would  not 
be  understandable  by  children,  nor  would  any  indi- 
vidual have  time  to  master  the  whole  of  them,  or  even 
•  a  due  proportion  of  each."  The  utmost  that  could 
be  attempted  would  be  to  give  young  people  some 
knowledge  of  the  results  of  such  sciences  and  the 
rules  derived  from  them.  But  to  this  Mr.  Spencer 
would  object  that  it  would  tend,  like  the  learning  of 
languages,  '*  to  increase  the  already  undue  respect 
for  authority." 

To  consider  Mr.  Spencer's  divisions  in  detail,  we  come 
first  to  knowledge  that  leads  to  self-preservation  : 

"  Happily,  that  all-important  part  of  education 
which  goes  to  secure  direct  self-preservation,  is,  in 
part,  already  provided  for.  Too  momentous  to  be 
left  to  our  blundering.  Nature  takes  it  into  her  own 
hands."  But  Mr.  Spencer  warns  us  against  such 
thwartingsof  Nature  as  that  by  which  '♦  stupid  school- 
mistresses commonly  prevent  the  girls  in  their  charge 
from  the  spontaneous  physical  activities  they  would 
indulge  in,  and  so  render  them  comparatively  in- 
capable of  taking  care  of  themselves  in  circumstances 
of  peril." 

Indirect  self-preservation,  Mr.  Spencer  believes, 
may  be  much  assisted  by  a  knowledge  of  physiology. 
*' Diseases  are  often  contracted,  our  members  are 
often  injured,  by  causes  which  superior  knowledge 
would  avoid."  I  believe  these  are  not  the  only 
grounds  on  which  the  advocates  of  physiology  urge 


232  HERBERT    SPENCER. 


its  claim  to  be  admitted  into  the  curriculum ;  but 
those,  if  they  can  be  established,  are  no  doubt  very 
important.  It  is  true,  however,  that  doctors  preserve 
their  own  life  and  health  by  their  knowledge  of 
ph3'siology  ?  I  think  the  matter  is  open  to  dispute. 
Mr. .  Spencer  does  not.  He  says  very  truly,  that 
man}'  a  man  would  blush  if  convicted  of  igno* 
ranee  about  the  pronunciation  of  Iphigenia,  or  about 
the  labors  of  Hercules,  who,  nevertheless,  would  not 
scruple  to  acknowledge  that  he  had  never  heard  of 
the  Eustachian  tubes,  and  could  not  tell  the  normal 
rate  of  pulsation.  "  So  terribly,"  adds  Mr.  Spencer, 
**  in  our  education  does  the  ornamental  override 
the  useful  1"  But  this  is  begging  the  question.  At 
present  classics  form  part  of  the  instruction  given  to 
every  gentleman,  and  physiology  does  not.  This  is 
the  simpler  form  of  Mr.  Spencer's  assertion  about 
the  labors  of  Hercules,  and  the  Eustachian  tubes, 
and  no  one  denies  it.  But  we  are  not  so  well  agreed 
on  the  comparative  value  of  these  subjects.  In  his 
Address  at  St.  Andrews,  Mr.  Mill  showed  that  he  at 
least  was  not  convinced  of  the  uselessness  of  classics, 
and  Mr.  Spencer  does  not  tell  us  how  the  knowledge 
of  the  normal  state  of  pulsation  is  useful ;  how,  to  use 
his  own  test,  "  it  influences  action."  However,  whether 
we  admit  the  claims  of  physiology  or  not,  we  shall 
probabl}'^  allow  that  there  are  certain  physiological 
facts  aud  rules  of  health,  the  knowledge  of  which 
would  be  of  great  practical  value,  and  should  therefore 
be  imparted  to  every  one.  Here  the  doctor  should 
come  to  the  schoolmaster's  assistance,  and  give  him  a 
manual  from  which  to  leach  them. 

Next  in   order  of  importance,   according   to  Mr. 


THE    MONEY-VALUE   OF   SCIENCE.  23J 


Sponcer,  comes  the  knowledge  which  aids  indirect 
self-preservation  by  facilitating  the  gaining  of  a 
livelihood.  Here  Mr.  Spencer  thinks  it  necessary  to 
prove  to  us  that  such  sciences  as  mathematics  and 
physics  and  biology  underlie  all  the  practical  arts 
and  business  of  life.  No  one  will  think  of  joining 
issue  with  him  on  this  point ;  but  the  question  still 
remains,  what  influence  should  this  have  on  education  ? 
"Teach  science,"  says  Mr.  Spencer.  "A  ground- 
ing in  science  is  of  great  importance,  both  because  it 
prepares  for  all  this  [business  of  life],  and  because 
rational  knowledge  has  an  immense  superiority  over 
empirical  knowledge."  Should  we  teach  all  sciences 
to  everybody?  This  is  clearly  impossible.  Should 
we,  then,- decide  for  each  child  what  is  to  be  his  par- 
ticular means  of  money-getting,  and  instruct  him  in 
those  sciences  which  will  be  most'  useful  in  that 
business  or  profession  ?  In  other  words,  should  we 
have  a  separate  schbol  for  each  calling?  The  only 
attempt  of  this  kind  which  has  been  made  is,  I 
believe,  the  institution  of  Handelschtilcn  ^commer- 
cial schools)  in  Germany.  In  them,  youths  of  fifteen 
or  sixteen  enter  for  a  course  of  two  or  three  years' 
instruction  which  aims  exclusively  at  fitting  them  for 
commerce.  But,  in  this  case,  their  general  education 
is  already  finished.  With  us,  the  lad  commonly  goes 
to  work  at  the  business  itself  quite  as  soon  as  he  has 
the  faculties  for  learning  the  sciences  connected  with 
it.  If  the  school  sends  him  to  it  with  a  love  of  knowl- 
edge, and  with  a  mind  well  disciplined  to  acquire  knowl- 
edge, this  will  be  of  more  value  to  him  *han  any  special 
information. 

As  Mr.  Spencer  is  here  considering  science  merely 


234  HERBERT    SPENCER. 

with  reference  to  its  importance  in  earning  a  liveli- 
hood, it  is  not  beside  the  question  to  remark,  that  in 
a  great  number  of  instances,  the  knowledge  of  the 
science  which  underlies  an  operation  confers  no  prac- 
tical ability  whatever.  No  one  sees  the  better  for 
understanding  the  structure  of  the  eye  and  the  undu- 
latory  theory  of  light.  In  swimming  and  rowing,  a 
senior  wrangler  has"  no  advantage  over  a  man  who  is 
entirely  ignorant  about  the  laws  of  fluid  pressure. 
As  far  as  money-getting  is  concerned,  then,  science 
will  not  be  found  to  be  universally  serviceable.  Mr. 
Spencer  gives  instances,  indeed,  where  science  would 
prevent  very  expensive  blundering ;  but  the  true  in- 
.  ference  is,  not  that  the  blunderers  should  learn  science, 
but  that  they  should  mind  their  own  business,  and  take 
the  opinion  of  scientific  men  about  theirs.  '*  Here  is 
a  mine,"  says  he,  "  in  the  sinking  of  which  many 
shareholders  ruined  themselves,  from  not  knowing 
that  a  certain  fossil  belonged  to  the  old  red  sandstone, 
below  which  no  coal  is  found."  Perhaps  they  were 
misled  by  the  little  knowledge  which  Pope  tells  us  is 
a  dangerous  thing.  If  they  had  been  entirely  igno- 
rant, they  would  surel}'^  have  called  in  a  professional 
geologist,  whose  opinion  would  have  been  more  val- 
uable than  their  own,  even  though  geology  had  taken 
the  place  of  classics  in  their  schooling.  "  Daily  are 
men  induced  to  aid  in  carrying  out  inventions  which  a 
mere  tyro  in  science  could  show  to  be  futile."  But 
these  are  men  whose  function  it  would  always  be  to 
lose  money,  not  make  it,  whatever  you  might  teach 
them.*     I    have  great  doubt,  therefore,  whether  the 

♦  '*  The  brewer,"  as  Mr.  Spencer  himself  tells  us,  "  if  his  busi- 
Qcsf;  is  very  extensive,  finds  it  pay  to  keep  a  chemist  on  the  premises ' 


RATIONAL    KNOWLEDGE    AND    EMPIRICAL.        235 


learning  of  sciences  will  ever  be  found  a  ready  way 
of  making  a  fortune.  But  directly  we  get  beyond  the 
region  of  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  I  agree  most 
cordially  with  Mr.  Spencer  that  a  rational  knowledge 
has  an  immense  superiority  over  empirical  knowledge. 
And,  as  a  part  of  their  education,  boys  should  be 
taught  to'distinguisli  the  one  from  the  otlier,  and  to 
desire  rational  knowledge.  Much  might  be  done  in 
this  way  b}'^  teaching,  not  all  the  sciences  and  nothing 
else,  but  the  main  principles  of  some  one  science, 
which  would  enable  the  more  intelligent  boys  to  un- 
derstand and  appreciate  the  value  of  "  a  rational  ex- 
planation of  phenomena."  I  believe  this  addition  to 
what  was  before  a  literary  education  has  already  been 
made  in  some  of  our  leading  schools,  as  Harrow, 
Rugby,  and  the  City  of  London.* 

Next,  Mr.  Spencer  would  have  instruction  in  the 
proper  way  of  rearing  offspring  form  a  part  of  his 
curriculum.  There  can  be  no  question  of  the  impor- 
tance of  this  knowledge,  and  all  that  Mr.  Spencer 
says  of  the  lamentable  ignorance  of  parents  is,  unfor- 
tunately, no  less  undeniable.     But  could  this  knowl- 

— pay  a  good  deal  better,  I  suspect,  than  learning  chemistry  at 
school. 

*  Mr.  Helps,  who  by  taste  and  talent  is  eminently  literary,  put  in 
this  claim  for  science  more  than  twenty  years  ago.  "The  higher 
branches  of  method  can  not  be  taught  at  firs^;  but  you  may  begin 
by  teaching  orderliness  of  mind.  Collecting,  classifying,  contrast- 
ing, and  weighing  facts  are  some  of  the  processes  by  which  method 
is  taught.  .  .  .  Scientific  method  may  be  acquired  without  manv 
sciences  being  learnt;  but  one  or  two  great  branches  of  science 
must  be  accurately  known."  [Friends  in  Coiutcil,  Education.^  Mr. 
Helps,  though  by  his  delightful  style  he  never  gives  the  reader  any 
notion  of  over-compression,  has  told  us  more  truth  about  education 
in  a  few  pages  than  one  sometimes  meets  with  in  a  complete  treatise. 


236  HERBERT    SPENCER. 


edge  be  imparted  early  in  life?  Young  people  would 
naturally  take  but  little  interest  in  it.  It  is  by  parents, 
or  at  least  by  those  who  have  some  notion  of  the  pa- 
rental responsibility,  that  this  knowledge  should  be 
sought.  The  best  way  in  which  we  can  teach  the 
young  will  be  so  to  bring  them  up  that,  when  they 
themselves  have  to  rear  children,  the  remernbrance  of 
their  own  youth  may  be  a  guide  and  not  a  beacon  to 
them.  But  more  knowledge  than  this  is  necessary, 
and  I  differ  from  Mr.  Spencer  only  as  to  the  proper 
lime  for  acquiring  it. 

Next  comes  the  knowledge  which  fits  a  man  for  the 
discharge  of  his  functions  as  a  citizen,  a  subject  to 
which  Dr.  Arnold  attached  great  importance  at  the 
lime  of  the  first  Reform  Bill,  and  which  deserves  our 
attention  all  the  more  in  consequence  of  the  second. 
But  what  knowledge  are  we  to  give  for  this  purpose? 
One  of  the  subjects  which  seem  especially  suitable  is 
history.  But  history,  as  it  is  now  written,  is,  accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Spencer,  useless.  *'  It  does  not  illustrate 
the  right  principles  of  political  action."  "  The  great 
mass  of  historical  facts  are  facts  from  which  no  con- 
clusions can  be  drawn — unorganizable  facts,  and, 
thJirefore,  facts  of  no  service  in  establishing  princi- 
ples of  conduct,  which  is  the  chief  use  of  facts.  Read 
them  if  you  like  for  amusement,  but  do  not  flatter 
yourself  they  are  instructive."  About  the  right  princi- 
ples of  political  action  we  seem  so  completely  at  sea 
that,  perhaps,  the  main  thing  we  can  do  for  the  young 
is  to  point  out  to  them  the  responsibilities  which  will 
hereafter  devolve  upon  them,  and  the  danger,  bolh  to 
the  state  and  the  individual,  ol  just  echoing  llie  popu- 
lar cry,  witliout  the  least  reflection,  according  to  oui 


HISTORY.  237 

present  usage.  Bui  history,  as  it  is  now  written  by 
great  historians,  may  be  of  some  use  in  training  the 
young  both  to  be  citizens  and  men.  "  Reading  about 
the  fifteen  decisive  battles,  or  all  the  battles  in  history, 
would  not  make  a  man  a  more  judicious  voter  at  the 
next  election,"  sa3's  Mr.  Spencer.  But  is  this  true? 
The  knowledge  of  what  has  been  done  in  other  times, 
even  by  those  whose  coronation  renders  them  so  dis- 
tasteful to  Mr.  Spencer,  is  knowledge  which  influ- 
ences a  man's  whole  character,  and  may,  therefore, 
affect  particular  acts,  even  when  we  are  unable  to 
trace  the  connection.  As  it  has  been  often  said,  the 
effect  of  reading  history  is,  in  some  respects,  the 
same  as  that  of  traveling.  Any  one  in  Mr.  Spencer's 
vein  might  ask,  "  If  a  man  has  seen  the  Alps,  of 
what  use  will  that  be  to  him  in  weighing  out  gro- 
ceries?" Directly,  none  at  all ;  but  indirectly,  much. 
The  traveled  man  will  not  be  such  a  slave  to  the 
petty  views  and  customs  of  his  trade  as  the  man  who 
looks  on  his  county  town  as  the  center  of  the  uni- 
verse. The  study  of  history,  like  traveling,  widens 
the  student's  mental  vision,  frees  him,  to  some  extent, 
from  the  bondage  of  the  present,  and  prevents  his 
mistaking  conventionalities  for  laws  of  nature.  It 
brings  home  to  him,  in  all  its  force,  the  truth  that 
•'  there  are  also  people  beyond  the  mountain"  {Hinter 
dcm  Bergc  sind  atich  Lcufe),  that  there  are  higher 
interests  in  the  world  than  his  own  business  concerns 
and  nobler  men  than  himself,  or  the  best  of  his  ac- 
quaintance. It  teaches  him  what  men  are  capable 
of,  and  thus  gives  him  juster  views  of  his  race.  And 
to  have  all  this  truth  worked  into  the  mind  contributes, 
perhaps,,  as  largely  to  "complete  living"  as  knowl* 


238  HERBERT    SPENCER. 

edge  of  the  Eustacliian  tubes,  or  of  the  normal  rate 
of  pulsation.* 

I  think,  therefore,  that  the  works  of  great  historians 
and  biographers,  which  we  already  possess,  may  be 
usefully  employed  in  education.  It  is  difficult  to  esti- 
mate *the  value  of  history  according  to  Mr.  Spencer's 
idea,  as  it  has  yet  to  be  written  ;  but  I  venture  to 
predict  that  if  boys,  instead  of  reading  about  the 
history  of  nations  in  connection  with  their  leading 
men,  are  required  to  study  only  "the  progress  of 
society,"  the  subject  will  at  once  lose  all  its  interest 
for  them ;  and,  perhaps,  raan}'^  of  the  facts  communi- 
cated will  prove,  after  all,  no  less  unorganizable  than 
the  fifteen  decisive  battles. 

Lastly,  we  come  to  that  *'  remaining  division  of 
human  life  which  includes  the  relaxations  and  amuse- 
ments filling  leisure  hours."  Mr.  Spencer  assures  us 
that  he  will  yield  to  none  in  the  value  he  attaches  to 
aesthetic  culture  and  its  pleasures ;  but  if  he  does  not 
value  the  fine  arts  less,  he  values  science  more ;  and 
painting,  music,  and  poetry  would  receive  as  little  en- 
couragement under  his  dictatorship  as  in  the  days  of 
the  Commonwealth.  "As  the  fine  arts  and  belles- 
lettres  occupy  the  leisure  part  of  life,  so  should  they 
occupy  the  leisure  part  of  education."     This  language 

*  Mr.  Mill  (who,  by  the  way,  would  leave  history  entirely  to  pri- 
vate reading,  Address  at  St.  Andrews,  p.  21)  has  pointed  out  that 
"  there  is  not  a  fact  in  history  which  is  not  susceptible  of  as  many 
different  explanations  as  there  are  possible  theories  of  human  af- 
fairs," aid  that  "  history  is  not  the  foundation  but  the  verification 
of  the  social  science."  But  he  admits  that  "  what  we  know  of  formei 
agCd,  like  what  we  know  of  foreign  nations,  is,  with  all  its  imperfect- 
iiess,  of  much  use,  by  correcting  the  narrowness  incident  to  personal 
experience."     fDissertations,  vol.  i.,  p.  112. ^ 


^STHRTIC   CULTURE.  2^9 


is  rather  obscure  ;  but  the  only  meaning  I  can  attach 
to  it*  is,  that  music,  drawing,  poetrj  ,  etc.,  may  be 
taught  if  time  can  be  found  when  all  other  knowledges 
are  provided  for.  This  reminds  me  of  the  author 
whose  works  are  so  valuable  that  they  will  be  studied 
when  Shakespeare  is  forgotten — but  not  before.  Any 
one  of  the  sciences  which  Mr.  Spencer  considers  so 
necessary  might  employ  a  lifetime.  Where,  then, 
shall  we  look  for  the  leisure  part  of  education  when 
education  includes  them  all?* 

*It  is  difficult  to  treat  seriously  the  arguments  by  which  Mr. 
Spencer  endeavors  to  show  that  a  knowledge  of  science  is  necessary 
for  the  practice  or  the  enjoyment  of  the  fine  arts.  Of  course,  the 
highest  art  of  every  kind  is  based  on  science,  that  is,  on  truths 
which  science  takes  cognizance  of  and  explains;  but  it  does  not 
therefore  follow  that  "  without  science  there  can  be  neither  perfect 
production  nor  full  appreciation."  Mr.  Spencer  tplls  us  oi  mistakes 
which  John  Lewis  and  Rossetti  have  made  for  want  of  science. 
Very  likely;  and  had  those  gentlemen  devoted  much  of  their  timo 
to  science  we  should  never  have  heard  of  their  blunders — or  of  their 
pictures  either.  If  they  were  to  paint  a  piece  of  woodwork,  a  car- 
penter might,  perhaps,  detect  something  amiss  in  the  mitering.  If 
they  painted  a  wall,  a  bricklayer  might  poiat  out  that  with  their  ar- 
rangement of  stretchers  and  headers  the  wall. would  tumble  down 
for  want  of  a  proper  bond.  But  even  Mr.  Spencer  would  not  wish 
them  to  spend  their  time  in  mastering  the  technicalities  of  every 
handicraft,  in  order  to  avoid  these  inaccuracies.  It  is  the  business 
of  the  painter  to  give  us  form  and  color  as  they  reveal  themselves  to 
the  eye,  not  to  prepare  illustrations  of  scientific  text-books.  The 
physical  sciences,  however,  are  only  part  of  the  painter's  nec- 
essary acquirements,  according  to  Mr.  Spencer.  "  He  must  also  un 
derstand  how  the  minds  of  spectators  will  be  affected  by  the  several 
peculiarities  of  his  work-<^a  question  in  psychology!"  Still  more 
surprising  is  Mr.  Spencer's  dictum  about  poetry.  "Its  rhythm,  its 
strong  and  numerous  metap!iors,  its  hyperboles,  its  violent  inver- 
sions, are  simply  exaggerations  of  the  traits  of  excited  jpeech.  To 
be  good,  therefore,  poetry  must  p-iy  attention  to  those  laws  of  ner\'ous 
action  which  excited  speech  obeys."    It  is  difficult  to  see  how  poetry 


240  HERBERT    SPENCER. 


B\it,  if  adopting  Mr.  Spencer's  own  measure,  we 
estimate  the  value  of  knowledge  by  its  influence  on 
action,  we  shall  probably  rank  "accomplishments" 
nmch  higher  than  they  have  hitherto  been  placed  in 
the  schemes  of  educationists.  Knowledge  and  skill 
connected  with  the  business  of  life  are,  of  necessity, 
acquired  in  the  discharge  of  business.  But  the  knowl- 
edge and  skill  which  make  our  leisure  valuable  to 
ourselves,  and  a  source  of  pleasure  to  others,  can  sel- 
dom be  gained  after  the  work  of  life  has  begun.  And 
yet  every  day  a  man  may  benefit  by  possessing  such  • 
an  ability,  or  may  suffer  from  the  want  of  it.  One 
whose  eyesight  has  been  trained  by  drawing  and 
painting  finds  objects  of  interest  all  around  him,  to 
which  other  people  are  blind.  A  primrose  by  the 
river's  brim  is,  perhaps,  more  to  him  who  has  a 
feeling  for  its  form  and  color  than  even  to  the  scien- 
tific student,  who  can  tell  all  about  its  classification 
and  component  parts.  A  knowledge  of  music  is 
often  of  the  greatest  practical  service,  as  by  virtue  of 
it,  its  possessor  is  valuable  to  his  associates,  to  say 
nothing  of  his  having  a  constant  source  of  pleasure 
and  a  means  of  recreation  which  is  most  precious  as  a 
relief  from  the  cares  of  life.  Of  far  greater  impor- 
tance is  the  knowledge  of  our  best  poetry.  One  of  the 
first  reforms  in  our  school-course  would  have  been,  I 
should  have  thought,  to  give  this  knowledge  a  much 
more  prominent  place ;  but  Mr.  Spencer  consigns  it, 
with  music  and  drawing,  to  "the  leisure  part  of  edu- 
cation."    Whether  a  man  who  was  engrossed  by  sci- 

can  pay  attention  to  anything.  The  poet,  of  course,  must  not  vio- 
late those  laws,  but,  if  he  has  paid  attention  to  tliem  in  composing, 
he  will  do  well  to  present  his  MS.  to  the  local  newspaper. 


Trtti   SCIENTIFIC    IVfAN.  2^1 


ence,  who  had  no  knowledge  of  the  fine  arts  except 
as  they  illustrated  sciemific  laws,  no  acquaintance 
with  tiie  lives  of  great  men,  or  with  any  history  but 
sociology,  and  who  studied  the  thoughts  and  emotions 
expressed  by  our  great  poets  merely  with  a  view  to 
their  psychological  classification — whether  such  a  man 
could  be  said  to  "  live  completely"  is  a  question  to 
which  every  one,  not  excepting  Mr.  Spencer  himself, 
would  probably  return  Ihe  same  answer.  And  yei 
this  is  the  kind  of  man  which  Mr.  Spencer's  system 
would  produce  where  it  was  most  successful. 

Let  me  now  briefly'  sum  up  the  conclusions  arrived 
at,  and  consider  how  far  I  differ  from  Mr.  Spencer. 
I  believe  that  there  is  no  one  study  which  is  suited 
to  train  the  -faculties  of  the  mind  at  every  stage 
of  its  development,  and  that  when  we  have  decided 
on  the  necessity  of  this  or  that  knowledge,  we  must 
consider  further  what  is  the  right  time  for  acquir- 
ing it.  I  believe  that  intellectual  education  should 
aim,  not  so  much  at  communicating  facts,  however 
valuable,  as  at  showing  tiie  boy  what  true  knowl- 
edge is,  and  giving  him  the  power'  and  the  disfto- 
sition  to  acquire  it.  I  believe  that  the  exclusively 
scientific  teaching  which  Mr.  Spencer  approves  would 
not  effect  this.  It  would  lead  at  best  to  a  very  one- 
sided development  of  the  mind.  It  might  fail  to 
engage  the  pupil's  interest  sufficiently  to  draw  out 
his  faculties,  and  in  this  case  the  net  outcome  of  hi 
schooldays  would  be  no  larger  than  at  present.  Ol 
the  knowledges  which  Mr.  Spencer  recommends  foi 
special  objects  some,  I  think,  would  not  conduce  to 
the  object,  and  some  could  not  be  communicated  early 
in  life,     (i.)  For  indirect  seh'-preservation  we  do  not 


242  HERBERT  SPENCEk. 


require  to  know  physiology,  but  the  results  of  ph3^si- 
ology.  (2.)  The  science  which  bears  on  special  pur- 
suits in  life  has  not  in  many  cases  any  pecuniary 
value,  and  although  it  is  most  desirable  that  every 
one  should  study  the  science  which  makes  hh  work 
intelligible  to  him,  this  must  usually  be  done  when 
his  schooling  is  over.  The  school  will  have  done  its 
part  if  it  has  accustomed  him  to  the  intellectual  pro- 
cesses by  which  sciences  are-  learned,  and  has  given 
him  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  their  value.*  (3.) 
The  right  way  of  rearing  and  training  children 
should  be  studied  indeed,  but  not  by  the  children 
themselves.  (4.)  The  knowledge  which  fits  a  man  to 
discharge  his  duties  as  a  citizen  is  of  great  importance, 
and,  as  Dr.  Arnold  pointed  out,  is  likely  to  be  entirely 
neglected  by  those  who  have  to  struggle  for  a  liveli- 
hood. The  schoolmaster  should, .  therefore,  by  no 
means  neglect  this  subject  with  those  of  his  pupils 
whose  schooldays  will  soon  be  over,  but,  probably,  all 
that  he  can  do  is  to  cultivate  in  them  a  sense  of  the 
citizen's  duty,  and  a  capacity  for  being  their  own 
teachers. f  (5.)  The  knowledge  of  poetry,  belles- 
lettres,  and  the  fine  arts,  which  Mr.  Spencer  hands 
over  to  the  leisure  part  of  education,  is  the  only  knowl- 
edge in   his  programme  which   I  think  should  most 

♦Speaking  of  law,  medicine,  engineering,  and  tlie  industrial  arts, 
Mr.  Mill  remarks  :  "  Whether  those  whose  specialty  they  are  will 
learn  them  as  a  branch  of  intelligence  or  as  a  mere  trade,  and 
whether  having  learnt  them,  the}-  will  make  a  wise  and  conscientious 
use  of  them,  or  the  reverse,  depends  less  on  the  manner  in  which 
they  are  taught  their  profession,  than  upon  wAa/  sor^  of  mind  they 
britig  to  it — what  kind  of  intelligence  and  of  conscienct,  the  general 
system  of  education  has  developed  in  them." — Address  at  St.  Andrews, 
p.6. 

tVide  Mill. — Address,  p.  67. 


SUBJECTS    TO    DP.    TAUGHT.  243 


certainly  form  a  prominent  part  in  the  curriculum  of 
every  school. 

I  therefore  differ,  though  with  great  respect,  from 
the  conclusions  at  which  Mr.  Spencer  has  arrived. 
But  I  heartily  agree  with  him  that  we  are  bound  to 
inquire  into  the  relative  value  of  knowledges,  a^d  if 
we  take,  as  I  should  willingly  do,  Mr.  Spencer's  lest, 
and  ask  how  does  this  or  that  knowledge  influence 
action  (including  in  our  inquiry  its  influence  on  mind 
and  character,  through  which  it  bears  upon  action),  I 
think  we  should  banish  from  our  schools  much  that 
has  hitherto  been  taught  in  them,  besides  those,  old 
tormentors  of  youth  (laid,  I  fancy,  at  last — rcquic^cant 
in  -pace) — the  Profria  qucs  Mar/bus  and  its  kindred 
absurdities.  What  we  should  teach  is,  of  course,  not 
so  easily  decided  as  what  we  should  not. 

I  now  come  to  consider  Mr.  Spencer's  second  chap> 
ter,  in  which,  under  the  heading  of  "  Intellectual 
Education,"  he  gives  an  admirable  summing  up  of  the 
main  principles  in  which  the  great  writers  on  the  sub- 
ject have  agreed,  from  Comenius  downward.  These 
principles  are,  perhaps,  not  all  of  them  unassailable, 
and  even  where  they  are  true,  many  mistakes  miist 
be  expected  before  we  arrive  at  the  best  method  of 
applying  them  ;  but  the  only  reason  that  can  be  as- 
signed for  the  small  amount  of  influence  they  have 
hitherto  exercised  is,  that  most  teachers  are  as  igno- 
rant of  them  as  of  the  abslrusest  doctrines  of  Kant 
and  Hegel. 

In  stating  these  principles  Mr.  Spencer  points  out 
that  they  merely  form  a  commencement  for  a  science 
of  education.  "  Before  educational  methods  can  be 
made  to  harmonize  in  character  and  arrangement  with 


244  HERBERT    SPENCER. 

the  faculties  in  the  mode  and  order  of  unfolding,  it  is 
first  needful  that  we  ascertain  with  some  completeness 
how  the  facuhies  do  unfold.  At  present  we  have 
acquired  on  this  point  only  a  few  general  notions. 
These  general  notions  must  be  developed  in  detail- 
must  be  transformed  into  a  multitude  of  specific  prop- 
ositions before  we  can  be  said  to  possess  that  science 
on  which  the  art  of  education  must  be  based.  And 
then,  when  we  have  definitel}'^  made  out  in  what  suc- 
cession and  in  what  combinations  the  mental  powers 
become  active,  it  remains  to  choose  out  of  the  man}) 
possible  ways  of  exercising  each  of  them,  that  which 
best  conforms  to  its  natural  mode  of  action.  Evidently, 
therefore,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  even  our  most 
advanced  modes  of  teaching  are  the  right  ones,  or 
nearly  the  right  ones."  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
that  we  have  no  science  of  education.  Those  who 
have  been  able  to  observe  the  phenomena  have  had 
no  interest  in  generalizing  from  them.  Up  to  the 
present  time  the  schoolmaster  has  been  a  person  to 
whom  boys  were  sent  to  learn  Latin  and  Greek.  He 
has  had,  therefore,  no  more  need  of  a  science  than 
the  dancing-master.  But  the  present  century,  which 
has  brought  in  so  many  changes  will  not  leave  the 
state  of  education  as  ^t  found  it.  Latin  and  Greek,  if 
they  are  not  dethroned  in  our  higher  schools,  will 
have  their  despotism  changed  for  a  very  limited  mon- 
archy. A  course  of  instruction  certainly  without 
Greek  and  perhaps  without  Latin  will  have  to  be  pro- 
vided for  middle  schools.  Juster  views  are  beginning 
to  prevail  of  the  schoolmaster's  function.  It  is  at 
length  perceived  that  ht  nas  to  assist  the  develop- 
ment of  the  human  mind,  and,  perhaps  by-and-by,  he 


SCIENCE    OF   EDUCATION.  245 


may  think  it  as  well  to  learn  all  he  can  of  that  which 
he  is  employed  in  developing.  When  matters  have 
advanced  as  far  as  this,  we  may  begin  to  hope  for  a 
science  of  education.  In  Locke's  day  he  could  say  of 
physical  science  that  there  was  no  such  science  in 
existence.  For  thousands  of  years  the  human  race  had 
lived  in  ignorance  of  the  simplest  laws  of  the  world  it 
inhabited.  But  the  true  method  of  inquiring  once  in- 
troduced, science  has  made  such  rapid  conquests,  ana 
acquired  so  great  importance,  that  some  of  our  ablest 
men  seem  inclined  to  deny,  if  not  the  existence,  at 
least  the  value,  of  any  other  kind  of  knowledge.  So, 
too,  when  teachers  seek  by  actual  observation  to  dis- 
cover the  laws  of  mental  development,  a  science  may 
be  arrived  at  which,  in  its  influence  on  mankind, 
would,  perhaps,  rank  before  any  we  now  possess. 

Those  who  have  read  the  previous  Essays  will  have 
seen  in  various  forms  most  of  the  principles  which 
Mr.  Spencer  enumerates,  but  I  gladly  avail  myself  of 
his  assistance  in  summing  them  up. 

I.  We  should  proceed  from  the  simple  to  the  com- 
plex, both  in  our  choice  of  subjects  and  in  the  way  in 
which  each  subject  is  taught.  We  should  begin  with 
but  few  subjects  at  once,  and,  successively  adding  to 
these,  should  finally  carry  on  all  subjects  abreast. 

Each  larger  concept  is  made  by  a  combination  of 

mailer  ones,  and  presupposes  them.     If  this  order  is 

not   attended    to    in    communicating  knowledge,   the 

pupil  can  learn  nothing  but  words,  and  will  speedily 

sink  into  apathy  and  disgust. 

That  we  must  proceed  from  the  known  to  the  un- 
known  is   something  more  than   a   corollary  to  the 


246  HERBERT    SPENCER. 

above  ;*  because  not  only  are  new  concepts  formed  by 
the  combination  of  old,  but  the  mind  has  a  liking  for 
what  it  knows,  and  this  liking  extends  itself  to  all 
that  can  be  connected  with  its  object.  The  principle 
of  using  the  known  in  teaching  the  unknown  is  so 
simple,  that  all  teachers  who  really  endeavor  to  make 
anything  understood,  naturally  adopt  it.  The  trav- 
eler who  is  describing  what  he  has  seen  and  what 
we  have  not  seen  tells  us  that  it  is  in  one  particular 
like  this  object,  and  in  another  like  that  object,  with 
which  we  are  already  familiar.  We  combine  these 
different  concepts  we  possess,  and  so  get  some  notion 
of  things  about  which  we  were  previously  ignorant. 
What  is  required  in  our  teaching  is  that  the  use  of 
the  known  should  be  employed  more  systematically. 
Most  teachers  think  of  boys  who  have  no  school 
learning  as  entirely  ignorant.  The  least  reflection 
shows,  however,  that  they  know  already  much  more 
than  schools  can  ever  teach  them.  A  sarcastic  ex-» 
aminer  is  said  to  have  handed  a  small  piece  of  paper 
to  a  student^  and  told  him  to  write  all  he  knew  on  it. 
Perhaps  many  boys  would  have  no  difficulty  in  stating 
the  sum  of  their  school  learning  within  very  narrow 
limits,  but  with  other  knowledge  a  child  of  five  years 
old,  could  he  write,  might  soon  fill  a  volume. f     Our 

*  Mr.  spencer  does  not  mention  this  principle  in  his  enumeration, 
but,  no  doubt,  considers  he  implies  it. 

t  "  Si  Ton  partageait  toute  la  science  humaine  en  deux  parties,  Tune 
commune  a  tous  les  hommes,  I'autre  particuliL-re  aux  savants,  celle- 
ci  scrait  tres-petite  en  comparison  de  I'autre.  Mais  nous  ne  songeons 
guere  aux  acquisitions  generates,  parce  qu'elles  se  font  sans  qu'on  y 
pense,  et  mcme  avant  I'Age  de  raison ;  que  d'ailleurs  le  savoir  ne  se 
fait  remarquer  que  par  ses  differences,  et  que,  comme  dans  les  6qua' 
tions  d'algebre,  les  quantit^s  communes  se  comptent  pour  rien."— 
UtKtlet  livre  i. 


FROM  THE  KNOWN  TO  THE  UNKNOWN.    247 


aim  should  be  to  connect  the  knowledge  boys  bring 
with  ihem  to  the  school-room  with  that  which  they 
are  to  acquire  there.  I  suppose  all  will  allow,  whethei 
they  think  it  a  matter  of  regret  or  otherwise,  that 
lardly  anything  of  the  kind  has  hitherto  been  at 
tempted.  Against  this  state  of  things  I  can  not 
refrain  from  borrowing  Mr.  Spencer's  eloquent  pro 
test.  "  Not  recognizing  the  truth  that  the  functiot 
of  books  is  supplementary — that  they  form  an  indi- 
rect means  to  knowledge  when  direct  means  fail,  a 
means  of  seeing  through  other  men  what  you  can  not 
see  for  yourself,  teachers  are  eager  to  give  second- 
hand facts  in  place  of  first-hand  facts.  Not  per- 
ceiving the  enormous  value  of  that  spontaneous  edu- 
cation which  goes  on  in  early  years,  not  perceiving 
that  a  child's  restless  observation,  instead  of  being 
ignored  or  checked,  should  be  diligently  ministered 
to  and  made  as  accurate  and  complete  as  possible, 
they  insist  on  occupying  its  eyes  and  thoughts  with 
things  that  are,  for  the  time  being,  incomprehensible 
and  repugnant.  Possessed  by  a  superstition  which 
worships  the  symbols  of  knowledge  instead  of  the 
knowledge  itself,  they  do  not  see  that  only  when  his 
acquaintance  with  the  objects  and  processes  of  the 
household,  the  street,  and  the  fields,  is  becoming 
tolerably  exhaustive,  only  then  should  a  child  be  in 
troduced  to  the  new  sources  of  information  which 
books  supply,  and  this  not  only  because  immediate 
cognition  is  of  far  greater  value  than  mediate  cogni- 
tion, but  also  because  the  words  contained  in  books 
can  be  rightly  interpreted  into  ideas  only  in  propor- 


248  HERBERT    SPENCER. 


tion  to  the  antecedent  experience  of  things."*  While 
agreeing  heartily  in  the  spirit  of  this  protest,  I  doubt 
whether  we  should  wait  till  the  child's  acquaintance 
with  the  objects  and  processes  of  the  household, 
the  street,  and  the  fields,  is  becoming  tolerably  ex- 
haustive before  we  give  him  instruction  from  books 
The  point  of  time  which  Mr.  Spencer  indicates  is,  at 
all  events,  rather  hard  to  fix,  and  I  should  wish  to 
connect  book-learning  as  soon  as  possible  with  the 
learning  that  is  being  acquired  in  other  ways.  Thus 
might  both  the  books,  and  the  acts  and  objects  of  daily 
life,  win  an  additional  interest.  If,  e.  g.,  the  first 
reading  books  were  about  the  animals,  and  later  on 
about  the  trees  and  flowers  which  the  children  con- 
stantly meet  with,  and  their  attention  were  kept  up  by 
large  colored  pictures,  to  which  the  text  might  refer, 
die  children  would  soon  find  both  pleasure  and  ad- 
vantage in  reading,  and  they  would  look  at  the  ani- 
mals and  trees  with  a  keener  interest  from  the  addi- 
tional knowledge  of  them  they  had  derived  from 
books.  This  is,  of  course,  only  one  small  application 
of  a  very  influential  principle. 

One  marvelous  instance  of  the  neglect  of  this  prin- 
ciple is  found  in  the  practice  of  teaching  Latin  gram- 

*  After  remarking  on  the  wrong  order  in  which  subjects  are  taught, 
he  continues,  "  What  with  perceptions  unnaturally  dulled  by  early 
thwartings,  and  a  coerced  attention  to  books,  what  with  the  mental 
confusion  produced  by  teaching  subjects  before  they  can  be  under- 
stood, and  in  each  of  them  giving  generalizations  before  the  facti 
of  which  they  are  the  generalizations,  whrxt  with  making  the  pupil 
a  mere  passive  recipient  of  others'  ideas  and  not  in  the  least  leading 
him  to  be  an  active  inquirer  or  self-instructor,  and  what  with  taxing 
the  faculties  to  excess,  there  are  very  few  minds  that  become  as  ef 
ficient  as  they  might  be." 


UNSCIENTIFIC   TEACHING.  249 

mar  before  English  grammar.  Respect  for  the  high 
authority  of  Professor  Kennech',  who  would  not  hav4 
English  grammar  taught  at  all,  prevents  m}'  express- 
ing myself  as  strongly  as  I  should  like  in  this  matter. 
As  Professor  Seeley  has  so  well  pointed  out,  children 
bring  with  them  to  school  the  knowledge  of  language 
in  its  concrete  form.  They  may  soon  be  taught  to 
observe  the  language  they  already  know,  and  to  find, 
almost  for  themselves,  some  of  the  main  divisions  of 
words  in  it.  But,  instead  of  availing  himself  of  the 
child's  previous  knowledge,  the  schoolmaster  takes  a 
new  and  difficult  language,  differing  as  much  as  pos- 
sible from  English,  a  new  and  difficult  science,  that 
of  grammar,  conveyed,  loo,  in  a  new  and  difficult  ter- 
minology;  and  all  this  he  tries  to  teach  at  the  same 
time.  The  consequence  is  that  the  science  is  de- 
stroyed, the  terminology  is  either  misunderstood,  or, 
more  probably,  associated  with  no  ideas,  and  even  the 
language  for  which  every  sacrifice  is  made,  is  found, 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  never  to  be  acquired  at  all.* 

*  A  class  of  boys  whom  I  once  took  in  Latin  Delectus  denied,  with 
Lhe  utmost  confidence,  when  I  questioned  them  on  the  subject,  that 
there  were  any  such  things  in  English  as  verbs  and  substantives. 
On  another  occasion,  I  saw  a  poor  boy  of  nine  or  ten  caned,  because, 
when  he  had  said  that  frojiciscor  was  a  deponent  verb,  he  could 
not  say  what  a  deponent  verb  was.  Even  if  he  had  remembered  the 
inaccurate  grammar  definition  expected  of  him,  "A  deponent  verb 
is  a  verb  with  a  passive  form  and  an  active  meaning,"  his  compre- 
hension of  proficiscor  would  have  been  no  greater.  It  is  worth  ob- 
631  ving  that,  even  when  offending  grievously  in  i^reat  matters  against 
the  principle  of  connecting  fresh  knowledge  with  the  old,  teacher* 
•  are  sometimes  driven  to  it  in  small.  They  find  that  it  is  better  for 
boys  to  see  that  lisjnum  is  like  regnum,  and  laudare  like  a»»ar«?,  than 
simply  to  learn  that  lignum  is  of  the  Second  Declension,  and  lau- 
dare of  the  First  Conjugation.  If  boys  had  to  learn,  by  mere  effort 
of  memory,  the  particular  declension  or  conjugation  of  Latin  wordi 


250  HERBERT   SPENCER. 


2.  "All  development  is  an  advance  from  the  indefi- 
nite to  the  definite." 

I  do  not  feel  very  certain  of  the  trutli  of  this  prin- 
ciple, or  of  its  application,  if  true.  Of  course,  a 
child's  intellectual  conceptions  are  at  first  vague,  and 
we  should  not  forget  this ;  but  it  is  rather  a  fact  than 
a  principle. 

3.  "  Our  lessons  ought  to  start  from  the  concrete, 
and  end  in  the  abstract."  What  Mr.  Spencer  says 
under  this  head  well  deserves  the  attention  of  all 
teachers.  "  General  formulas  which  men  have  devised 
to  express  groups  of  details,  and  which  have  severally 
simplified  their  conceptions  by  uniting  many  facts 
into  one  fact,  they  have  supposed  must  simplify  the 
conceptions  of  a  child  also.  They  have  forgotten  that 
a  generalization  is  simple  only  in  comparison  with  the 
whole  mass  of  particular  truths  it  comprehends ;  that 
it  is  more  complex  than  any  one  of  these  truths  taken 
simply ;  that  only,  after  many  of  these  single  truths 
have  been  acquired,  does  the  generalization  ease  the 
memory  and  help  the  reason  ;  and  that,  to  a  mind  not 
possessing  these  single  truths,  it  is  necessarily  a  mys- 
tery.* Thus,  confounding  two  kinds  of  simplification, 
teachers  have  constantly  erred  by  setting  out  with 
♦'  first  principles,"  a  proceeding  essentially,  though  not 

before  they  were  taught  anything  about  declensions  and  conjuga- 
tions, this  would  be  as  sensible  as  the  method  adopted  in  some  other 
instances,  and  the  teachers  might  urge,  as  usual,  that  the  informa- 
tion would  come  in  useful  afterward. 

♦  "General  terms  are,  as  it  were,  but  the  indorsements  upon  the 
bundles  of  our  ideas;  they  are  useful  to  those  who  have  collected  a 
number  of  ideas,  but  utterly  useless  to  those  who  have  no  collection! 
ready  for  classification." — EdgewortlCs  Practical  Education^  vol 
i.91. 


FROM  THE  CONCRETE  TO  THE  ABSTRACT.  25 1 

apparently,  at  variance  with  the  primary  rule  [of  pro- 
ceeding from  the  simple  to  the  complex],  whicli  im- 
plies that  the  mind  should  be  introduced  to  princi- 
ples through  the  medium  of  examples,  and  so  should 
be  led  from  the  particular  to  the  general,  from  the  con- 
crete to  the  abstract."  In  conformity  with  this  prin- 
ciple, Peslalozzi  made  the  actual  counting  of  things 
precede  the  teaching  of  abstract  rules  in  arithmetic. 
Basedow  introduced  weights  and  measures  into  the 
school,  and  Mr.  Spencer  describes  some  exercise  in 
cutting  out  geometrical  figures  in  cardboard  as  a 
preparation  for  geometry.  The  difficulty  about  such 
instruction  is  that  it  requires  apparatus,  and  apparatus 
is  apt  to  get  lost  or  out  of  order.  But,  if  apparatus 
is  good  for  anything  at  all,  it  is  worth  a  little  trouble. 
There  is  a  tendency  in  the  minds  of  many  teachers  to 
depreciate  "  mechanical  appliances."'  Even  a  decent 
blackboard  is  not  always  to  be  found  in  our  higher 
schools.  But,  though  such  appliances  will  not  enable 
a  bad  master  to  teach  well,  nevertheless,  other  things 
being  equal,  the  master  will  teach  better  with  them 
than  without  them.  There  is  little  credit  due  to  him 
for  managing  to  dispense  with  apparatus.  An  author 
might  as  well  pride  himself  on  being  saving  in  pens 
and  paper. 

4.  "The  genesis  of  knowledge  in  the  individual 
must  follow  the  same  course  as  the  genesis  of  knowK 
edge  in  the  race."  This  is  a  thesis  on  which  I  have 
no  opinion  to  offer.  It  was,  I  believe,  first  maintained 
by  Pestalozzi. 

5.  From  the  above  principle  Mr.  Spencer  infers 
that  every  study  should  have  a  purely  experimental 


252  HERBERT    SPENCER. 

introduction,  thus   proceeding  through   an   empirical 
stage  to  a  rational. 

6.  A  second  conclusion  which  Mr.  Spencer  draws 
is  that,  in  education,  the  process  of  self-development 
should    be    encouraged     to    the    utmost.      Children 
should  be  led  to  make  their  own  investigations,  and 
to  d!f;W  their  own  inferences.     They  should  be  told 
as  little  as  possible,  and  induced  to  discover  as  much 
as  possible.     I   quite  agree   with  Mr.   Spencer  that 
this  principle  can  not  be  too  strenuously  insisted  on, 
though  it  obviously  demands  a  high  amount  of  intelli- 
gence in   the  teacher.     But  if  education  is  to  be  a 
training  of  the  faculties,  if  it  is  to  prepare  the  pupil  to 
teach  himself,  something  more  is  needed  than  simply 
to  pour  in  knowledge  and  make  the  pupil  reproduce 
it.     The  receptive  and  reproductive  faculties  form  but 
a  small  portion  of  a  child's  powers,  and  yet  the  only 
portion  which  many  schoolmasters  seek  to  cultivate. 
It  is,  indeed,  not  easy  to  get  beyond  this  point;  but 
the  impediment  is  in  us,  not  in  the  children.     "Who 
can  watch,"  asks  Mr.  Spencer,  "the  ceaseless  obser- 
vation,  and    inquiry,   and    inference,  going   on   in   a 
child's  mind,  or  listen  to  its  acute  remarks  in  matters 
within  the  range  of    its  faculties,  without  perceiving 
that  these  powers  it  manifests,  if  brought  to  bear  sys- 
tematically upon  studies  within  the  same  rangCy  would 
readily  master  them  without  help?     This  need  for  per- 
petual telling  results  from  our  stupidity,  not  from  ihe 
child's.     We  drag  it  away  from  the  facts  in  which  it 
is  interested,  and  which  it  is  actively  assimilating  of 
itself.     We  put  before  it  facts  far  loo  complex  for  it  to 
understand,  and  therefore  distasteful  to  it.     Finding 
that   it  will   not   voluntarily  acquire   these    facts,  we 


SELF-DKVKLOPMF.NT.  253 

thrust  them  into  its  mind  by  force  of  threats  and  pun- 
ishmen'  By  thus  denying  the  knowledge  it  craves, 
and  cramming  it  with  knowledge  it  can  not  digest,  we 
produce  a  morbid  state  of  its  facuhies,  and  a  conse- 
ijuent  disgust  for  knowledge  in  general.  And  when, 
as  a  result,  partly  of  the  stolid  indolence  we  have 
brought  on,  and  partly  of  still-continued  unfitness  in 
its  studies,  the  child  can  understand  nothing  without 
explanation,  and  becomes  a  mere  passive  recipient  of 
our  instruction,  we  infer  that  education  must  necessa- 
rily be  carried  on  thus.  Having  by  our  method  in- 
duced helplessness,  we  make  the  helplessness  a  reason 
for  our- method."  It  is,  of  course,  much  easier  to 
point  out  defects  than  to  remedy  them  :  but  every  one 
who  has  observed  the  usual  indifference  of  school- 
boys to  their  work,  and  the  waste  of  time  consequent 
on  their  inattention,  or  only  half-hearted  attention,  to 
the  matter  before  them,  and  then  thinks  of  the  eager- 
ness with  which  the  same  boys  throw  themselves  into 
tlie  pursuits  of  their  play-hours,  will  feel  a  desire  to 
get  at  the  cause  of  this  difference ;  and,  perhaps,  it 
may  seem  to  him  partly  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that 
their  school-work  makes  a  monotonous  demand  on  a 
single  faculty — the  memory. 

7.  This  brings  me  to  the  last  of  Mr.  Spencer's  prin- 
ciples of  intellectual  education.  Instruction  must  ex- 
cite the  interest  of  the  pupils,  and  therefore  be  pleas- 
urable to  them.  "Nature  has  made  the  healthful 
exercise  of  our  faculties  both  of  mind  and  body  pleas- 
urable. It  is  true  that  some  of  the  highest  mental 
powers  as  yet  but  little  developed  in  the  race,  and 
congenitally  possessed  in  any  considerable  degree  only 
by  the  most  advanced,  are  indisposed  to  the  amount 


254  HERBERT    SPENCER. 

of  exertion  required  of  them.  But  these  in  virtue  of 
their  very  complexity  will  in  a  normal  course  of  cul- 
ture come  last  into  exercise,  and  will,  therefore,  l.ave 
no  demands  made  on  them  until  the  pupil  has  arrived 
at  an  age  when  ulterior  motives  can  be  brought  into 
play,  and  an  indirect  pleasure  made  to  counterbalance 
a  direct  displeasure.  With  all  faculties  lower  than 
these,  however,  the  immediate  gratification  consequent 
on  activity  is  the  normal  stimulus,  aftd  under  good 
management  the  only  needful  stimulus.  When  we 
have  to  fall  back  on  some  other,  we  must  take  the 
fact  as  evidence  that  we  are  on  the  wrong  track.  Ex- 
perience is  daily  showing  with  greater  clearness  that 
there  is  always  a  method  to  be  found  productive  of 
interest — even  of  delight — and  it  ever  turns  out  that 
this  is  the  method  proved  by  all  other  tests  to  be  the 
right  one." 

As  far  as  I  have  had  the  means  of  judging,  I  have 
found  that  the  majority  of  teachers  reject  this  princi- 
ple. If  you  ask  them  why,  most  of  them  will  tell  you 
that  it  is  impossible  to  make  school-work  interesting 
to  children.  A  large  number  also  hold  that  it  is  not 
desirable.  Let  us  consider  these  two  points  sepa- 
rately. 

Of  course,  if  it  is  not  possible  to  get  children  to 
take  interest  in  anything  they  could  be  taught  in 
school,  there  is  an  end  of  the  matter.  But  no  one 
really  goes  as  far  as  this.  Every  teacher  finds  tha; 
some  of  the  things  boys  are  taught  they  like  better 
than  others,  and  perhaps  that  one  boy  takes  to  one 
subject  and  another  to  another,  and  he  also  finds,  both 
of  classes  and  individuals,  that  they  always  get  on 
oest  with  what  they  like  best.     The  utmost  that  can 


SHOULD   LEARNING   BB    PLEASURABLE?  255 

be  maintained  is,  then,  that  some  subjects  which 
must  be  taught  will  not  interest  the  majority  of  the 
learners.  And  if  it  be  once  admitted  that  it  is  desir- 
able to  make  learning  pleasant  and  interesting  to  our 
pupils,  this  principle  will  influence  us  to  some  extent 
in  the  subjects  we  select  for  teaching,  and  still  more 
in  the  methods  by  which  we  endeavor  to  teach  them. 
I  say  we  shall  be  guided  to  some  extent  in  the  selection 
of  siibjects.  There  are  theorists  who  assert  that  na- 
ture gives  to  young  minds  a  craving  for  their  proper 
aliment,  so  that  they  should  be  taught  only  what  they 
show  an  inclination  for.  But  surely  our  natural  in- 
clinations in  this  matter,  as  in  others,  are  neither  on 
the  one  hand  to  be  ignored,  nor  on  the  other  to  be  un- 
controlled by  such  motives  as  our  reason  dictates  to  us. 
We  at  length  perceive  this  in  the  physical  nurture  of 
our  children.  Locke  directs  that  children  are  to  have 
very  little  sugar  or  salt.  "Sw^eetmeats  of  all  kinds 
are  to  be  avoided,"  says  he,  '•  which,  whether  they  do 
more  harm  to  the  maker  or  eater  is  not  easy  to  tell." 
(Ed.  §  20.)  Now,  however,  doctors  have  found  out 
that  young  people's  taste  for  sweets  should  in  moder- 
ation be  gratified,  ihat  they  require  sugar  as  much  as 
they  require  any  other  kind  of  nutriment.  But  no 
one  would  think  of  feeding  his  children  entirely  on 
sweetmeats,  or  even  of  letting  them  have  an  unlimited 
supply  of  plum-puddings  and  hardbake.  If  we  follow 
out  this  analogy  in  nourishing  the  mind,  we  shall,  to 
some  extent  gratify  a  child's  taste  for  *'  stories,"  whilst 
we  also  provide  a  large  amount  of  more  solid  fare. 
But  although  we  should  ceitainly  not  ignore  our 
children's  likes  and  dislikes  in  learning,  or  in  anything 
else,  it  is  easy  to  attach  too  much  importance  to  them. 


256  HERBERT    SPENCER. 


Dislike  very  often  proceeds  from  mere  want  of  insighl 
into  the  subject.  When  a  boy  has  "done"  the  First 
Book  of  EucHd  without  knowing  how  to  judge  of  the 
size  of  an  angle,  or  the  Second  Book  without  forming 
any  conception  of  a  rectangle,  no  one  can  be  surprised 
at  his  not  likinij  Euclid.  And  then  the  failure  which 
is  really  due  to  bad  teaching  is  attributed  by  the 
master  to  the  stupidity  of  his  pupil,  and  by  the  pupil 
to  the  t'ullness  of  the  subject.  If  masters  really  de- 
sired to  make  learning  a  pleasure  to  their  pupils,  I 
think  they  would  find  that  much  might  be  done  to 
elTect  this  without  any  alteration  in  the  subjects 
taught. 

But  the  present  dullness  of  school-work  is  not  with- 
out its  defenders.  They  insist  on  the  importance  of 
breaking  in  the  mind  to  hard  work.  This  can  only  be 
done,  they  say,  by  tasks  which  are  repulsive  to  it.  The 
schoolboy  does  not  like,  and  ought  not  to  like,  learn- 
ing Latin  grammar  any  more  than  the  colt  should 
find  pleasure  in  running  round  in  a  circle  :  the  very 
fact  that  these  things  are  not  pleasant  makes  them 
beneficial.  Perhaps  a  certain  amount  of  such  train- 
ing may  train  down  the  mind  and  qualify  it  for  some 
drudgery  from  which  it  might  otherwise  revolt;  but 
if  this  result  is  attained,  it  is  attained  at  the  sacrifice 
of  the  intellectual  activity  which  is  necessary  for  any 
higher  function.  As  Carlyle  says,  when  speaking  of 
routine  work  generally,  you  want  nothing  but  a  sorry 
n.\g  to  draw  your  sand-ca'^t ;  your  high-spirited  Arab 
will  be  dangerous  in  such  a  capacity.  But  who  would 
advocate  for  all  colts  a  training  which  should  render 
Ihera  fit  for  nothing  but  such  humble  toil?     I  have 


TRAINING   THE    MIND    DOWN.  ^57 

spoken  elsewhere  on  this  subject,  and  here  I  will 
merely  express  my  strong  conviction  that  boys'  minds 
are  frequently  dwarfed,  and  their  interest  in  intellec- 
tual pursuits  blighted,  by  the  practice  of  employing 
the  first  years  of  their  school  life  in  learning  by  heart 
things  which  it  is  quite  impossible  for  them  to  under- 
stand or  care  for.  Teachers  set  out  by  assuming  thai 
little  boys  can  not  understand  anything,  and  that  all 
we  can  do  with  them  is  to  keep  them  quiet  and  cram 
them  with  forms  which  will  come  in  useful  at  a  later 
age.  When  the  boys  have  been  taught  on  this  system 
for  two  or  three  years,  their  teacher  complains  that 
they  are  stupid  and  inattentive,  and  that  so  long  as 
they  can  say  a  thing  by  heart  they  never  trouble  them- 
selves to  understand  it.  In  other  words,  the  teacher 
grumbles  at  them  for  doing  precisely  what  they  have 
been  taught  to  do,  for  repeating  words  without  any 
thought  of  their  meaning. 

In  this  very  important  matter  I  am  fully  alive  to 
the  difference  between  theory  and  practice.  It  is  so 
easy  to  recommend  that  boys  should  be  got  to  under- 
stand and  take  an  interest  in  their  work — so  difficult 
to  carry  out  the  recommendation  I  Grown  people  can 
hardly  conceive  that  words  which  have  in  their  minds 
been  associated  with  familiar  ideas  from  time  imme- 
morial, are  mere  sounds  in  the  mouths  of  their  pupils. 
The  teacher  thinks  he  is  beginning  at  the  beginning 
if  he  says  that  a  transitive  verb  must  govern  an  ac- 
cusative, or  that  all  the  angles  of  a  square  are  right 
angles.  He  gives  his  pupils  credit  for  innate  ideas 
up  to  this  point,  at  all  events,  and  advancing  on 
this  supposition  he  finds  that  he  can  get  nothing  out 
22 


25S  HERBERT   SPENCER. 

of  them  but  memory-work,  so  he  insists  on  this  that 
his  time  and  theirs  may  not  seem  to  be  wholl}; 
wasted.  The  great  difficulty  of  teaching  well,  how- 
ever, is  after  all  but  a  poor  excuse  for  contentedly 
teaching  badly,  and  it  would  be  a  great  step  in 
advance  if  teachers  in  general  were  as  dissatisfied 
with  themselves  as  the}'  usually  are  with  their  pu- 
pils.* 

I  do  not  purpose  following  Mr.  Spencer  through 
his  chapters  on  moral  and  physical  education.  In 
practice  I  find  I  can  draw  no  line  between  moral  and 
religious  education ;  so  the  discussion  of  one  with- 
out the  other  has  not  for  me  much  interest.  Mr. 
Spencer  has  some  very  valuable  remarks  on  physical 
education  which  I  could  do  little  more  than  extract, 
and  I  have  already  made  too  many  quotations  from 
a  work  which  will  be  in  the  hands  of  most  of  my 
readers. 

Mr.   Spencer  diflfers  very  widely  from  the   great 


*Mr.  Spencer  and  Professor  Tyndall  appeal  to  the  results  of  ex- 
perience as  justifying  a  more  rational  method  of  teaching.  Speak- 
ing of  geometrical  deductions,  Mr.  Spencer  says :  "  It  has  re- 
peatedly occurred  that  those  who  have  been  stupefied  by  the  ordi 
nary  school-drill — by  its  abstract  formulas,  its  wearisome  taskt>, 
its  cramming — have  suddenly  had  their  intellects  roused  by  thus 
c.:£'jing  to  make  them  passive  recipients,  and  inducing  them  to  be- 
come active  discoverers.  The  discouragement  caused  by  bad  teach- 
ing having  been  diminished  by  a  little  sympathy,  and  sufficient  per- 
severance excited  to  achieve  a  first  success,  there  arises  a  revolution 
of  feeling  affecting  the  whole  nature.  They  no  longer  find  them- 
selves  incompetent;  they  too  can  do  something.  And  gradually,  as 
success  follows  success,  the  incubus  of  despair  disappears,  and  they 
attack  the  difficulties  of  their  other  studies  with  a  co'jrage  insuring 
conquest." 


IMPORTANCE  OF    HIS    BOOK.  259 


body  of  our  schoolmasters.  I  have  ventured  in  turn 
t )  differ  on  some  points  from  Mr.  Spencer ;  but  I  am  ' 
none  the  less  conscious  that  he  has  wrilten  not  only 
one  of  liie  most  readable,  but  also  one  of  the  most 
important  books  on  education  in  the  English  lan- 
guage. 


X. 

THOUGHTS  AND  SUGGESTIONS. 


One  of  the  great  wants  of  middle-class  education 
at  present,  is  an  ideal  to  work  toward.  Our  old 
public  schools  have  such  an  ideal.  Tlie  model  public 
school-man  is  a  gentleman  who  is  an  elegant  Latin 
and  Greek  scholar.  True,  this  may  not  be  a  very  good 
ideal,  and  some  of  our  ablest  men,  both  literary  and 
scientific,  are  profoundly  dissatisfied  with  it.  But,  so 
long  as  it  is  maintained,  all  questions  of  reform  are 
comparatively  simple.  In  middle-class  schools,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  is  no  terminus  ad  quetn.  A 
number  of  boys  are  got  together,  and  the  question 
arises,  not  simply  Aow  to  teach,  but  wAai  to  teach. 
Where  the  masters  are  not  university  men,  they  are, 
it  may  be,  not  men  of  broad  views  or  high  culture. 
Of  course  no  one  will  suppose  me  ignorant  of  the 
fact  that  a  great  number  of  teachers  who  have  never 
been  at  a  university,  are  both  enlightened  and  highly 
cultivated ;  and  also  that  many  teachers  who  have 
taken  degrees,  even  in  honors,  are  neither.  But, 
speaking  broadly  of  the  two  classes,  I  may  fairly 
assume  that  the  non-university  men  are  inferior  in 
these  respects  to  the  graduates.  If  not,  our  uni- 
versities should  be  reformed  on  Carlyle's  *'  live-coal" 
principle,  without  further  loss  of  time.  Many  non- 
university   masters  have   been   engaged   in  teaching 


BAD    TEACHING.  26l 


ever  since  they  were  boys  themselves,  and  teaching 
is  a  very  narrowing  occupation.  They  are  apt  there- 
fore to  be  careless  of  general  principles,  and  to  aim 
merely  al  storing  their  pupils'  memory  with  facli 
—  facts  about  language,  about  history,  about  geog 
raphy,  without  troubhng  themselves  to  consider  what 
is  and  what  is  not  worth  knowing,  or  what  faculties 
the  boys  have,  and  how  they  should  be  developed. 
The  consequence  is  their  boys  get  up,  for  the  purpose 
of  foigetting  with  all  convenient  speed,  quantities  of 
details  about  as  instructive  and  entertaining  as  the 
Propria  qucB  maribus,  such  as  the  division  of  Eng- 
land under  the  Heptarchy,  the  battles  in  the  wars  of 
the  Roses,  and  lists  of  geographical  names.  Where 
the  masters  are  university  men,  they  have  rather  a 
contempt  for  this  kind  of  cramming,  which  makes 
them  do  it  badly,  if  they  attempt  it  at  all :  but  they  are 
driven  to  this  teaching  in  many  cases  because  they  do 
not  know  what  to  substitute  in  its  place.  Their  own 
education  was  in  classics  and  mathematics.  Their 
pupils  are  too  young  to  have  much  capacity  for  mathe- 
matics, and  they  will  leave  school  too  soon  to  get  any 
sound  knowledge  of  classics,  so  the  strength  of  the 
teaching  ought  clearly  not  to  be  thrown  into  these  sub- 
jects. -But  the  master  really  knows  no  other.  He 
soon  finds  ihat  he  is  not  much  his  pupils'  superior  in 
acquintance  with  the  theory  of  the  English  language 
or  with  history  and  geography.  There  are  not  many 
men  with  sufficient  strength  of  will  to  study  whilst 
their  energies  are  taxed  by  teaching,  and  standard 
books  are  not  always  within  reacii :  so  the  master  is 
forced  to  content  himself  with  hearing  lessons  in  a 
perfunctory  way  out  of  dreary  school-books.     Hence 


262  THOUGHTS    AND   SUGGESTIONS. 

it  comes  to  pass  that  he  goes  on  teaching  subjects  of 
which  he  himself  is  ignorant,  subjects,  too,  of  which 
he  does  not  recognize  the  importance,  with  an  en 
lightened  disbelief  in  his  own  method  of  tuition.  He 
finds  it  up-hill  work,  to  be  sure — labor  of  Sisyphus, 
in  fact — and  is  conscious  that  his  pupils  do  not  get  on, 
however  hard  he  may  try  to  drive  them  ;  but  he  never 
hoped  for  success  in  his  teaching,  so  the  want  of  it 
does  not  distress  him.  I  may  be  suspected  of  carica- 
ture, but  not,  I  think,  by  university  men  who  have 
themselves  had  to  teach  anything  besides  classics  and 
mathematics. 

If  there  is  any  truth  in  what  I  have  been  saying, 
school-teaching,  in  subjects  other  than  classics  and 
mathematics  (which  I  am  not  now  considering), 
is  very  commonly  a  failure.  And  a  failure  it  must 
remain  until  boys  can  be  got  to  work  with  a  will,  in 
other  words,  to  feel  interest  in  the  subject  taught.  I 
know  there  is  a  strong  prejudice  in  some  people's 
minds  against  the  notion  of  making  learning  pleas- 
ant. They  remind  us  that  school  should  be  a  prepa- 
ration for  after-life.  After-life  will  bring  with  it  an 
immense  amount  of  drudgery.  If,  they  say,  things  at 
school  are  made  too  easy  and  pleasant  (words,  by  the 
way,  very  often  and  very  erroneously  confounded), 
school  will  cease  to  give  the  proper  discipline  :  boys 
will  be  turned  out  not  knowing  what  hard  work  is, 
which,  after  all,  is  the  most  important  lesson  that  can 
be  taught  them.  In  these  views  I  sincerely  concur,  so 
far  as  this,  at  least,  that  we  want  boys  to  work  hard 
and  vigorously  to  go  through  necessary  drudgery,  i.  e., 
labor  in  itself  disagreeable.  But  this  result  is  not  at- 
tained by  such  a  system  as  I  have  described.     Boys 


INTEREST  IN  WORK.  263 


do  not  learn  to  work  hard^  but  in  a  dull,  stupid  way, 
with  most  of  their  faculties  lying  dormant,  and  though 
they  are  put  through  a  vast  quantity  of  drudgery,  they 
seem  as  incapable  of  throwing  any  energy  into  it,  as 
prisoners  on  the  tread-mill.  I  think  we  shall  find,  on 
consideration,  that  no  one  succeeds  in  any  occupation 
unless  that  occupation  is  interesting,  either  in  itself  or 
from  some  object  that  is  to  be  obtained  by  means  of  it. 
Only  when  such  an  interest  is  aroused  is  energy  pos- 
sible. No  one  will  deny  that,  as  a  rule,  the  most 
successful  men  are  those  for  whom  their  employment 
has  the  greatest  attractions.  We  should  be  sorry  to 
give  ourselves  up  to  the  treatment  of  a  doctor  who 
thought  the  study  of  disease  mere  drudgery,  or  a 
dentist  who  felt  a  strong  repugnance  to  operating  on 
teeth.  No  doubt,  the  successful  man  in  every  pursuit 
has  to  go  through  a  great  deal  of  drudgery,  but  he 
has  a  general  interest  in  the  subject,  which  extends, 
partially  at  least,  to  its  most  wearisome  details ;  his 
energy,  too,  is  excited  by  the  desire  of  what  the 
drudgery  will  gain  for  him.* 

*  On  this  subject  I  can  quote  the  authority  of  a  great  observer  of 
the  mind — no  less  a  man,  indeed,  than  Wordsworth.  He  speaks  of 
the  "grand  elementary  principle  of  pleasure,  by  which  man  knows, 
and  feels,  and  lives,  and  moves.  We  have  no  sympathy,"  he  con- 
tinues, "  but  what  is  propagated  by  pleasure — I  would  not  be  mis 
understood — but  wherever  we  sympathize  "with  pain,  it  will  be  found 
that  the  sympathy  is  produced  and  carried  on  by  subtle  combina- 
tions with  pleasure.  We  have  no  knowledge,  that  is,  no  geneial 
principles  drawn  from  the  contemplation  of  particular  facts,  but 
what  has  been  built  up  by  pleasure,  and  exists  in  us  by  plea-^ure 
alone.  The  man  of  science,  the  chemist,  and  mathematician,  what- 
ever difficulties  and  disgusts  they  may  have  to  struggle  with,  know 
and  feel  this.  However  painful  may  be  the  objects  with  Nshich  the 
anatomist's  knowledge  may  be  connected,  he  feels  that  his  knowl- 
edge is  pleasure,  and  wir^  be  has  ho  pleasure  he  has  no  kr  fWledgt* 


264  THOUGHTS   AND    SUGGESTIONS. 


Observe,  that  although  I  would  have  boys  take  pleas- 
ure in  their  work,  I  regard  the  pleasure  as  a  means, 
not  an  end.  If  it  could  be  proved  that  the  mind  was 
best  trained  by  the  most  repulsive  exercises,  I  should 
most  certainly  enforce  them.  But  I  do  not  think  thai 
the  mind  is  benefited  by  galley-slave  labor :  indeed, 
hardly  any  of  its  faculties  are  capable  of  such  labor. 
We  can  compel  a  boy  to  learn  a  thing  by  heart,  but 
we  can  not  compel  him  to  wish  to  understand  it;  and 
the  intellect  does  not  act  without  the  will.  Hence, 
when  anything  is  required  which  can  not  be  performed 
by  the  memory  alone,  the  driving  system  utterly 
breaks  down  ;  and  even  the  memory,  as  I  hope  to 
siiow  presently,  works  much  more  effectually  in  mat- 
ters about  which  the  mind  feels  an  interest.  Indeed, 
the  mind  without  sympathy  and  interest  is  like,  the 
sea-anemone  when  the  tide  is  down,  an  unlovely 
thing,  closed  against  external  influences,  enduring 
existence  as  best  it  can.  But  let  it  find  itself  in  a 
more  congenial  element,  and  it  opens  out  at  once, 
shows  altogether  unexpected  capacities,  and  eagerly 
assimilates  all  the  proper  food  that  comes  within  its 
reach.  Our  school-teaching  is  often  little  better  than 
^an  attempt  to  get  sea-anemones  to  flourish  on  dry  land. 

We  see,  then,  that  a  boy,  before  he  can  throw 
energy  into  study,  must  find  that  study  interesting  171 
itself^  or  in  its  results. 

— Preface  to  second  edition  of  Lyrical  Ballads.  If  we  accept  Pro- 
fessor Bain's  doctrine,  "States  of  pleasure  are  connected  with  an 
increase,  and  states  of  pain  with  a  diminution,  of  some  or  all  of  the 
vital  functions,"  it  will  follow  that  the  healthy  discharge  of  the 
functions,  either  of  the  mind  or  the  body,  must  be  pleasurable. 
However,  I  merely  suggest  this  for  consideration. 


HOW    INTEREST    IS    EXCITED.  265 


Some  subjects,  properly  taught,  are  interesting  in 
themselves. 

Some  subjects  may  be  inleresling  to  older  and 
more  thoughtful  boys,  from  a  perception  of  their  use- 
fulness. 

All  subjects  may  be  made  interesting  by  emulu; 
tion. 

Hardly  an3'  effort  is  made  in  some  schools  to  in 
terest  the  younger  children  in  their  work,  and  yet  no 
effort  can  be,  as  the  Germans  say,  more  "rewarding.* 
The  teacher  of  children  has  this  advantage,  that  hia 
pupils  are  never  dull  and  listless,  as  youths  are  apt 
to  be.  If  they  are  not  attending  to  him,  they  very 
soon  give  him  notice  of  it,  and  if  he  has  the  sense 
to  see  that  their  inattention  is  his  fault,  not  theirs, 
this  will  save  him  much  annoyance  apd  them  much 
misery.  He  has,  too,  another  advantage,  which  gives 
him  the  power  of  gaining  their  attention  —  their 
emulation  is  easily  excited.  In  the  Waisenhaus  at 
Halle  I  once  heard  a  class  of  very  young  children, 
none  of  them  much  above  six  years  old,  perform  feats 
of  mental  arithmetic  quite  beyond  their  age  (I  wished 
their  teacher  had  not  been  so  successful),  and  I  well 
remember  the  pretty  eagerness  with  which  each  child 
held  out  a  litlle  hand  and  shouted,  "-Michr  to  gain 
the  privilege  of  answering. 

Then  again,  there  are  many  subjects  in  which 
children  take  an  interest.  Indeed,  all  visible  tilings, 
especially  animals,  are  much  more  to  them  than  to  us. 
A  child  has  made  acquaintance  with  all  the  animals  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  can  tell  you  much  more  about 
the  house  and  its  surroundings  than  you  know  your- 
self.    But  all  this  knowledge  and  interest  you  would 


266  THOUGHTS   AND   SUGGESTIONS. 


wish  forgotten  directly  he  comes  into  school.  Reading, 
writing,  and  figures  are  taught  in  the  driest  manner. 
The  first  two  are  in  themselves  not  uninterestinij  to 
the  child,  as  he  has  something  to  do,  and  young 
people  are  much  more  ready  to  do  anything  than  to 
learn  anything.  But  when  lessons  are  given  the 
child  to  learn,  they  are  not  about  things  concerning 
which  he  has  ideas,  and  feels  an  interest,  but  you 
teach  him  the  Catechism — mere  sounds — and,  that 
Alfred  (to  him  only  a  name)  came  to  the  throne  in  871, 
though  he  has  no  notion  what  the  throne  is,  or  what 
871  means.  The  child  learns  the  lesson  with  much 
trouble  and  small  profit,  bearing  the  infliction  with 
what  patience  he  can,  till  he  escapes  out  of  school, 
and  begins  to  learn  much  faster  on  a  very  different 
system. 

An  attempt  has  been  made  by  the  Pestalozzians 
to  remedy  all  this.  They  insist  strongly  on  the  ne- 
cessity of  teaching  children  about  things^  and  of 
appealing  to  their  senses.  But,  to  judge  from  the 
Cheam  manual,  they  have  succeeded  merely  in  prov- 
ing that  lessons  on  things  may  be  made  as  tiresome 
as  any  other  lessons.  They  hold  up  an  object,  say  a 
piece  of  sponge,  and  run  through  all  the  adjectives 
which  can  possibly  be  applied  to  it.  "  This  is  sponge. 
Sponge  is  an  animal  product.  Sponge  is  amorphous. 
Sponge  is  pcyrous.  Sponge  is  absorbent,"  etc.,  etc. 
I  have  no  practical  acquaintance  with  this  method, 
but  confess  I  do  not  like  the  look  of  it  from  a  dis' 
tance.* 


•  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has  conclusively'  shown  Pestalozzian  prac- 
tices are  often  at  variance  with  Pestalozzian  principles. — Education., 
chap.  ii. 


PICTURES.  267 


We  can  not  often  introduce  into  the  school  the 
thing,  much  less  the  animal,  which  children  would 
care  to  see,  but  we  can  introduce  what  will  please 
the  children  as  well,  in  some  cases  even  better,  viz., 
good  pictures.  A  teacher  who  could  draw  boldly 
on  the  blackboard,  would  have  no  difficulty  in  ar- 
resting the  children's  attention.  But,  of  course,  few 
can  do  this.  Pictures  must,  therefore,  be  provided 
for  him.  A  good  deal  has  been  done  of  late  yearj 
in  the  way  of  illustrating  children's  books,  and  even 
childhood  must  be  the  happier  for  such  pictures  as 
those  of  Tenniel  and  Harrison  Weir.  But,  it  seems 
well  understood  that  these  gentlemen  are  incapable 
of  doing  anything  for  children  beyond  affording 
them  innocent  amusement,  and  we  should  be  as  much 
surprised  at  seeing  their  works  intrQduced  into  that 
region  of  asceticism,  the  English  school-room,  as  if 
we  ran  across  one  of  Raphael's  Madonnas  in  a  Bap- 
tist chapel. 

I   had  the  good  fortune,  some  years  ago,   to  be 
present   at   the    lessons   given    by    a    very    excellent 
teacher   to   the   youngest    class',  'consisting   both    of 
boys  and  girls,  at  the  first  Burgcr^chulfi  oi  Leipzig. 
In  Saxony  the  schooling  which    the-state  demands 
for  each  child,  begins  at  six  yeai^  oldy.-JFnd  In-*-  'H' 
fourteen.    Tiiese  children  were,  therefore,  bct\vi 
and  seven.     In  one  year,  a  certain  Dr.  Vater  1  i  igi.i 
them  to  read,  write,  and  reckon.     His  method 
follows  : — Each  child  had    a  book   with   piclu; 
objects^wich  as  a  hat',  a  slate,  etc.     Uiider  the  pir-  ^ 
ture    was   the    name    of  the   object    in    priht^n^  and. 
vvritinfr  characters,  and  also  a  couplet  about  the  bb- ' 
ject.^  The  children  having  opened  their  books,  and 


£ 


'68  THOUGHTS    AND    SUGGESTIONS. 

found  the  picture  of  a  hat,  the  teacher  showed  them 
a  hat,  and  told  them  a  tale  connected  with  one.  He 
then  asked  the  children  questions  about  his  story, 
and  about  the  hat  he  had  in  his  hand — What  was 
the  color  of  it?  etc.  He  then  drew  a  hat  on  the 
blackboaw'd,  and  made  the  children  copy  it  on  their 
slates.  Next  he  wrote  the  word  "  hat,"  and  told  them 
that  for  people  who  could  read  this  did  as  well  as 
the  picture.  The  children  then  copied  the  word  on 
their  slates.  The  teacher  proceeded  to  analyze  the 
word  "hat."  "It  is  made  up,"  said  he,  "of  three 
sounds,  the  most  important  of  which  is  the  a,  which 
comes  in  the  middle."  In  all  cases  the  vowel  sound 
was  first  ascertained  in  every  syllable,  and  then  was 
given  an  approximation  to  the  consonantal  sounds 
before  and  after.  The  couplet  was  now  read  by  the 
teacher,  and  the  children  repeated  it  after  him.  In  this 
way  the  book  had  to  be  worked  over  and  over  till  the 
children  were  perfectly  familiar  with  everything  in  it. 
They  had  been  already  six  months  thus  employed 
when  I  visited  the  school,  and  knew  the  book  pretty 
thoroughly.  To  test  their  knowledge,  Dr.  Vater 
first  wrote  a  number  of  capitals  at  random,  on  the 
board,  and  called  out  a  boy  to  tell  him  words  liaving 
these  capitals  as  initials.  This  boy  had  to  call  out  a 
girl  to  do  something  of  the  kind,  she  a  boy,  and  so 
forth.  Everything  was  done  very  smartly,  both 
by  master  and  children.  The  best  proof  I  saw  of 
their  accuracy  and  quickness  was  this  :  the  master 
traced  words  from  the  book  very  rapidly  with  a  stick 
on  the  blackboard,  and  the  children  always  called  out 
the  right  word,  though  I  often  could  not  follow  him. 
He  also  wrote  with  chalk  words  which  the  children 


ELEMENTARY    TEACHING    AT    LEIPZIG.  2O9 

had  never  seen,  and  made  tliem  name  firs-t  the  vowel 
sounds,  tlien  ihe  consonantal,  then  combine  them. 

I  have  been  thus  minute  in  my  description  of  this 
lesson,  because  it  seems  to  me  an  admirable  example 
o{  the  way  in  which  children  between  six  and  eight 
years  of  age  should  be  taught.  The  method  was 
arranged  and  the  book  prepared  by  the  late  Dr.  Vogel, 
who  was  tlien  Director  of  the  school.  Its  merits,  as 
its  author  pointed  out  to  me,  are  : — i.  That  it  connects 
the  instruction  with  objects  of  which  the  child  has 
already  an  idea  in  his  mind,  and  so  associates  new 
knowledge  with  old ;  2.  That  it  gives  the  children 
plenty  to  do  as  well  as  to  learn,  a  point  on  which  the 
Doctor  was  very  emphatic;  3.  That  it  makes  the 
children  go  over  the  same  matter  in  various  ways,  till 
they  have  learnt  a  little  thoroughly t,3.n6.  then  applies 
their  knowledge  to  the  acquirement  of  more.  Here 
the  Doctor  seems  to  have  followed  Jacotot.  Bui 
thougii  the  method  was  no  doubt  a  good  one,  I  must 
say  its  success  at  Leipzig  was  due  at  least  as  much  to 
Dr.  Vater  as  lo  Dr.  Vogel.  This  gentleman  had  been 
taking  the  youngest  class  in  this  school  for  twenty 
years,  and,  whether  by  practice  or  natural  talent,  he 
had  acquired  precisely  the  right  manner  for  keeping 
children's  attention.  He  was  energetic  without  bustle 
and  excitement,  and  quiet  without  a  suspicion  of  dull- 
ness or  apathy.  By  frequently  changing  the  employ* 
nent  of  the  class,  and  requiring  smartness  in  every- 
thing that  was  done,  he  kept  them  all  on  the  alert. 
The  lesson  I  have  described  was  followed  without 
pause  by  one  in  arithmetic,  the  two  together  occupy- 
ing an  hour  and  three-quarters,  and  the  interest  of  the 
children  never  flagged  throughout. 


270  THOUGHTS    AND    SUGGESTIONS. 

It  is  then  possible  to  teach  children,  at  this  stage  al 
least,  without  making  them  hate  their  work,  and  dread 
the  sound  of  the  school-bell. 

I  will  suppose  a  child  to  have  passed  through  such 
a  course  as  this  by  the  time  he  is  eight  or  nine  years 
old.  He  can  now  read  and  copy  easy  words.  What 
we  next  want  for  him  is  a  series  of  good  reading 
books,  about  things  in  which  he  takes  an  interest. 
The  language  must  of  course  be  simple,  but  the  mat- 
ter so  good  that  neither  master  nor  pupils  will  be  dis- 
gusted by  its  frequent  repetition. 

The  first  volume  may  very  well  be  about  animals — 
dogs,  horses,  etc.,  of  which  large  pictures  should  be 
provided,  illustrating  the  text.  The  first  cost  of  these 
pictures  would  be  considerable,  but  as  they  would  last 
[or  years,  the  expense  to  the  friends  of  each  child 
taught  from  them,  would  be  a  mere  trifle. 

The  books  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  children, 
should  be  well  printed,  and  strongly  bound.  In  the 
present  penny-wise  system,  school-books  are  given  out 
m  cloth,  and  the  leaves  are  loose  at  the  end  of  a  fort- 
night, so  that  children  get  accustomed  to  their  destruc- 
tion, and  treat  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  This  ruins 
their  respect  for  books,  which  is  not  so  unimportant  a 
matter  as  it  may  at  first  appear. 

After  each  reading  lesson,  which  should  contain  at 
least  one  interesting  anecdote,  there  should  be  columns 
of  all  the  words  which  occurred  for  the  first  time  in 
that  lesson.  These  should  be  arranged  according  to 
their  grammatical  classification,  not  that  the  child 
should  be  taught  grammar,  but  this  order  is  as  good 
as  any  other",  and  by  it  the  child  would  learn  to  ob- 
serve certain  differences  in  words  almost  unconsciously. 


READING,    AND    RECITING    POETRY.  2^1 

As  good  reading  is  best  learnt  by  imitation,  the  lesson 
should  first  be  read  aloud  by  the  master.  It  will 
sometimes  be  a  useful  exercise  to  make  the  children 
prepare  a  lesson  beforehand,  and  give  an  account  of 
the  substance  of  it  before  opening  their  books.  "Ac- 
customing boja  to  read  aloud  what  they  do  not  first 
understand,"  says  Dr.  Franklin,  "  is  the  cause  of 
those  even  set  tones  so  common  among  readers,  which, 
when  they  have  once  got  a  habit  of  using,  they  find 
so  difficult  to  correct ;  by  which  means,  among  fifty 
readers  we  scarcely  find  a  good  one."* 

As  a  change  reading-book,  ^sop's  Fables  may  now 
bo  used,  and  an  edition  with  such  illustrations  as  Ten- 
niel's  will  be  well  worth  the  additional  outlay. 

Easy  descriptive  and  narrative  poetry  should  be 
learnt  by  heart  in  this  form.  That  the  ciiildren  may 
repeat  it  well,  the}'^  should  get  their  first  notions  of  it 
from  the  master  vivA  voce.  According  to  the  usual 
plan,  they  get  it  up  with  false  emphasis  and  false 
stops,  and  the  more  thoroughly  they  have  learnt  the 
piece,  the  more  difficulty  the  master  has  in  making 
them  say  it  properly. 

Every  lesson  should  be  worked  over  in  various 
ways.  The  columns  of  words  at  the  end  of  the  read- 
ing lessons  may  be  printed  with  writing  characters, 
and  used  for  copies.  To  write  an  upright  column 
either  of  woids  or  figures  is  an  excellent  exercise  in 
neatness.  The  columns  will  also  be  used  as  spelling 
lessons,  and  the  children  may  be  questioned  about  the 
meaning  of  the  words.  The  poetry,  when  thorougiily 
learned,  may  sometimes  be  written  from  memory. 
Sentences   from   the  book  may   be  copied  either  di- 

*  Essays     Sketch  of  a^  English  School. 


272  THOUGins    AND    SUGGESTIONS. 

reclly  or  from  the  blackboard,  and  afterward  used  foi 
dictation. 

Dictation  lessons  are  often  given  very  badly.  The 
boys  spell  nearly  as  many  words  wrong  as  right,  and 
if  even  all  the  blunders  are  corrected,  little  morepcins 
is  taken  to  impress  the  right  way  on  their  memory 
than  the  wrong.  But  the  chief  use  of  dictation  is  to 
fix  in  the  memory  by  practice  words  already  known. 
Another  mistake  is  for  the  master  to  keep  repeating 
the  sentence  the  boys  are  writing.  He  should  first 
read  the  piece  straight  through,  that  the  boys  may 
know  what  they  are  writing  about.  Then  he  should 
read  it  by  clauses,  slowly  and  distinctly,  waiting  a  suffi- 
cient time  between  the  clauses,  but  never  repeating 
them.  This  exercises  the  boys'  attention,  and  accus- 
toms their  ear  to  the  form  of  good  sentences — an 
excellent  preparation  for  composition.  Where  the  dic- 
tation lesson  has  been  given  from  the  reading-book, 
the  boys  may  afterward  take  the  book  and  correct 
either  their  own  exercises  or  one  another's.* 

Boys  should  as  soon  as  possible  be  accustomed  to 
write  out  fables,  or  the  substance  of  other  reading 
lessons,  in  their  own  words.  They  may  also  write 
descriptions  of  things  with  which  they  are  familiar, 
or  any  event  which  has  recently  happened,  such  as  a 

*Mr.  R.  Robinson,  in  his  Manual  of  Method  and  Organization^ 
gives  some  good  hin'.s  for  impressing  on  boys'  memories  the  words 
Ihey  have  spelt  wrong.  An  exercise-book,  he  says,  should  always  be 
used  tor  the  dictation  lesson,  and  of  every  word  in  which  a  boy 
blunders,  he  should  afterward  make  a  line  at  the  end  of  the  book, 
writing  tiie  word  as  many  times  as  it  will  go  in  the  line.  Now  and 
then  the  master  may  turn  to  these  words,  and  examine  the  boy  in 
them,  and  by  comparing  different  books,  he  will  sec  which  wor<li 
are  most  likely  to  be  wrongly  spelt 


DICTATION   AND   COMPOSITION.  273 


country  excursion.  Every  one  feels  the  necessity,  on 
grounds  of  practical  utility  at  all  events,  of  boys  being 
taught  to  express  their  thoughts  neatly  on  paper,  in 
good  English  and  with  correct  spelling.  Yet  this 
is  a  point  rarely  reached  before  the  age  of  fifteen  or 
sixteen,  often  never  reached  at  all.  The  reason  is, 
that  written  exercises  must  be  carefully  looked  over 
b}'  the  master,  or  they  are  done  in  a  slovenly  manner. 
Any  one  who  has  never  taught  in  a  school  will  say, 
♦'  Then  let  the  master  carefully  look  them  over."  But 
the  expenditure  of  time  and  trouble  this  involves  on 
the  master  is  so  great  that  in  the  end  he  is  pretty 
sure  eitlier  to  have  few  exercises  written,  or  to  neg- 
lect to  look  them  over.  The  only  remedy  is  for  the 
master  not  to  have  many  boys  to  teach,  and  not  to 
be  many  hours  in  school.  Even  then,  unless  he  set 
apart  a  special  time  every  day  for  correcting  exercises, 
he  is  likely  to  find  them  "  increase  upon  him." 

The  course  of  reading-books,  accompanied  by  large 
illustrations,  may  go  on  to  many  other  things  which 
the  children  see  around  them,  such  as  trees  and 
plants,  and  so  lead  up  to  instruction  in  natural  his- 
tory and  physiology.  But  in  imparting  all  knowl- 
edge of  this  kind,  we  should  aim,  not  at  getting  the 
children  to  remember  a  number  of  facts,  but  at  open- 
ing their  eyes,  and  extending  the  range  of  their  in- 
terests. 

Hitherto  I  have  supposed  the  children  to  have  only 
three  books  at  the  same  time;  viz.,  a  reading-book 
about  animals  and  things,  a  poetry-book,  and  -^Esop's 
Fables.  With  the  first  commences  a  series  culmi- 
nating in  works  of  science ;  with  the  second  a  series 
that  should  lead  up  to  Milton  and  Shakespeare ;  the 


27-f  THOUGHTS    AND    SUGGESTIONS. 

p , ,  _ 

third  should  be  succeeded  by  some  of  our  best  writers 
in  prose. 

But  many  schoolmasters  will  shudder  at  the  thought 
of  a  child's  spending  a  year  or  two  at  school  without 
ever  hearing  of  the  Heptarchy  or  Magna  Charta,  and 
without  knowing  the  names  of  the  great  towns  in  any 
country  of  Europe.  I  confess  I  regard  this  ignorance 
with  great  equanimity.  If  the  child,  or  the  youth 
even,  takes  no  interest  in  the  Heptarchy  and  Magna 
Charta,  and  knows  nothing  of  the  towns  but  their 
names,  I  think  him  quite  as  well  off  without  this 
knowledge  as  with  it — perhaps  better,  as  such  knowl- 
edge turns  the  lad  into  a  "  wind-bag,"  as  Carlyle  might 
say,  and  gives  him  the  appearance  of  being  well- 
informed  without  the  reality.  But  I  neither  despise  a 
knowledge  of  history  and  geography,  nor  do  I  think 
that  these  studies  should  be  neglected  for  foreign  lan- 
guages or  science ;  and  it  is  because  I  should  wish  a 
pupil  of  mine  to  become  in  the  end  thoroughly  con- 
versant in  history  and  geography,  that  I  should,  if 
possible,  conceal  from  him  the  existence  of  the  nu- 
merous school  manuals  on  these  subjects. 

We  will  suppose  that  a  parent  meets  with  a  book 
which  he  thinks  will  be  both  instructive  and  enter- 
taining to  his  children.  But  the  book  is  a  large  one, 
and  would  take  a  long  time  to  get  through  ;  so,  instead 
of  reading  any  part  of  it  to  them  or  letting  them  read 
it  for  themselves,  he  makes  them  learn  the  index  by 
heart.  The  children  do  not  find  it  entertaining  ;  they 
get  a  horror  of  the  book,  which  prevents  their  ever 
looking  at  it  afterward,  and  they  forget  the  index  as 
soon  as  they  possibly  can.  Just  such  is  the  saga- 
cious plan  adopted  in  teaching  history  and  geography 


EPITOMES.  275 


in  schools,  and  such  are  the  natural  consequences. 
Every  student  knows  that  the  use  of  an  epitome  is  to 
systematize  knowledge,  not  to  communicate  it,  and 
yet,  in  teaching,  we  give  the  epitome  first,  and  allow 
it  to  precede,  or  rather  to  supplant,  the  knowledge 
epitomized.  The  children  are  disgusted,  and  no 
wonder.  The  subjects,  indeed,  are  interesting,  but 
not  so  the  epitomes.  I  suppose  if  we  could  see  the 
skeletons  of  the  Gunnings,  we  should  not  find  them 
more  fascinating  than  any  other  skeletons. 

The  first  thing  to  be  aimed  at,  then,  is  to  excite  the 
children's  interest.  Even  if  we  thought  of  nothing  but 
the  acquiring  of  information,  this  is  clearly  the  true 
method.  What  are  the  facts  which  we  remember? 
Those  in  which  we  feel  an  interest.  If  we  arc  told 
that  So-and-so  has  met  with  an  accident,  or  failed  in 
business,  we  forget  it  directly,  unless  we  know  the 
person  spoken  of.  Similarly,  if  I  read  anything  about 
Addison  or  Goldsmith,  it  interests  me,  and  I  remem- 
ber it,  because  they  are,  so  to  speak,  friends  of  mine ; 
but  the  same  information  about  Sir  Richard  Black- 
more  or  Cumberland  would  not  stay  in  my  head  for 
four-and-twenty  hours.  So,  again,  we  naturally  retain 
anything  we  learn  about  a  foreign  country  in  which 
a  relation  has  settled,  but  it  would  require  some  little 
trouble  to  commit  to  memory  the  same  facts  about  a 
place  in  which  we  had  no  concern.  All  this  proceeds 
from  two  causes.  First,  that  the  mind  retains  that  in 
which  it  takes  an  interest;  and,  secondly,  that  one  of 
the  principal  helps  to  memory  is  the  association  of 
ideas.  These  were,  no  doubt,  the  ground  reasons 
which  influenced  Dr.  Arnold  in  framing  his  plan  of 
a    child's   first   history-book.      This   book,    lie   says, 


276  THOUGHTS    AND    SUGGESTIONS. 

should  be  a  picture-book  of  the  memorable  deeds 
which  would  best  appeal  to  the  child's  imagination. 
The}  should  be  arranged  in  order  of  time,  but  with  no 
other  connection.  The  letterpress  should  simpl}?,  but 
fully,  tell  the  story  of  the  action  depicted.  These  would 
form  starting-points  of  interest.  The  child  would  be 
curious  to  know  more  about  the  great  men  whose 
acquaintance,  he  had  made,  and  would  associate 
with  them  the  scenes  of  their  exploits ;  and  thus 
we  might  actually  find  our  children  anxious  to 
learn  history  and  geography  !  I  am  sorry  tiiat  even 
the  great  authority  of  Dr.  Arnold  has  not  availed  to 
bring  this  method  into  use.  Such  a  book  would,  of 
course,  be  dear.  Bad  pictures  are  worse  than  none 
at  all ;  and  Goethe  tells  us  that  his  appreciation  of 
Homer  was  for  years  destroyed  by  his  having  been 
shown,  when  a  child,  absurd  pictures  i^Fratzenbilder) 
of  the  Homeric  heroes.  The  book  would,  therefore, 
cost  six  or  eight  shillings  at  least ;  and  who  would 
give  this  sum  for  an  account  of  single  actions  of  a  few 
great  men,  when  he  might  buy  the  lives  of  all  great 
men,  together  with  ancient  and  modern  history,  the 
names  of  the  planets,  and  a  great  amount  of  miscel- 
laneous information,  all  for  half-a-crown  in  "  Mang- 
nall's  Q^iestions?" 

However,  if  the  saving  of  a  few  shillings  is  more 
to  be  thought  of  than  the  best  method  of  instruction, 
the  subject  hardly  deserves  our  serious  consideration. 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  books  for  the  young 
are  so  seldom  written  by  distinguished  authors.  I  sup- 
pose that  of  the  three  things  which  the  author  seeks— 
money,  reputation,  influence — the  first  is  not  often  de- 
spised,   nor  the  last   considered   the  least  valuable. 


WANT   OF   GOOD   BOOKS.  277 

And  yet  both  money  and  influence  are  more  certainl} 
gained  by  a  good  .book  for  the  young,  than  b}'  any 
other.  The  influence  of  "  Tom  Brown,"  however 
difterent  in  kind,  is  probably  not  smaller  in  amount 
than  that  of  "  Sartor  Resartus." 

An  improvement,  I  hope,  has  already  begun.  Misa 
Yonge's  "Golden  Deeds"  is  just  the  sort  of  book 
that  I  have  been  recommending.  Professor  Huxley 
has  lately  published  an  elementary  book  on  Physiology, 
and  Professor  Kingsley  has  promised  us  a  '*  Boys' 
History  of  England." 

What  we  want  is  a  Macaulay  for  boys,  who  shall 
handle  historical  subjects  with  that  wonderful  art 
displayed  in  the  "  Essays  " — the  art  of  elaborating  all 
the  more  telling  portions  of  the  subject,  outlining  the 
rest,  and  suppressing  everything  that  does  not  con- 
duce to  heighten  the  general  effect.  Some  of  these 
essays,  such  as  the  "  Hastings"  and  "  Clive,"  will  be 
read  with  avidity  by  the  elder  boys ;  but  as  Macaulay 
did  not  write  for  children,  he  abounds  in  words  to 
them  unintelligible.  Had  he  been  a  married  man, 
we  might  perhaps  have  had  such  a  volume  of  histor- 
ical sketches  for  boj's  as  now  we  must  wish  for  in 
vain.  But  there  are  good  story-tellers  left  among  us, 
and  we  might  soon  expect  such  books  as  we  desider- 
ate, if  it  were  clearly  understood  what  is  the  right  sort 
of  book,  and  if  men  of  literary  ability  and  experience 
would  condescend  to  write  them.  At  present,  teachers 
who  have  a  "  connection"  make  compendiums,  which 
last  only  as  long  as  the  "  connection"  that  floats  them  • 
and  literary  men,  if  they  wish  to  make  money  out  of 
the  30ung,  hand  over  works  written  for  adults,  to  some 
underling,  who  epitomizes  them  for  schools.     Of  R|r 


278  THOUGHTS   AND    SUGGESTIONS. 

Knight,  who  has  done  so  much  for  sound  education,  I 
should  have  expected  better  things  ;  but  he  tells  us  in 
a  volume  of  some  500  pages,  called  "  Knight's  School 
History  of  England,"  condensed  from  his  large  history 
under  his  su-perintendence^  that  he  trusts  no  event  of 
importance  in  our  annals  has  been  omitted.  This 
seems  to  me  like  trusting  that  the  work  is  valueless 
for  all  purposes  of  rational  instruction. 

If  in  these  latter  days  "  the  individual  withers, 
and  the  world  is  more  and  more,"  we  must  not  expect 
our  children  to  enter  into  this.  Their  sympathy  and 
their  imagination  can  be  aroused,  not  for  nations,  bul 
for  individuals ;  and  this  is  the  reason  why  some 
biographies  of  great  men  should  precede  any  history. 
These  should  be  written  after  Macaulay's  method. 
There  should  be  no  attempt  at  completeness,  but 
what  is  most  important  and  interesting  about  the 
man  should  be  narrated  in  detail,  and  the  rest  lightly 
sketched,  or  omitted  altogether.  Painters  under- 
stand this  principle,  and  in  taking  a  portrait,  very 
often  depict  a  man's  features  minutely  without  telling 
all  the  truth  about  the  buttons  on  his  waistcoat. 
But,  because  in  a  literary  picture  each  touch  takes 
up  additional  space,  writers  seem  to  fear  that  the 
picture  will  be  distorted  unless  every  particular  is  ex- 
panded or  condensed  in  the  same  ratio.  As  a  modei 
for  our  biographies,  we  may  take  "  Plutarch's  Lives," 
which  should  be  read  as  soon  as  boys  are  old  enough 
to  like  them.* 

♦  "  There  is  no  profane  study  better  than  Plutarch  :  all  other  learn- 
ing is  private,  fitter  for  universities  than  cities;  fuller  of  contem- 
plation than  experience ;  nao'"e  commendable  in  students  themselve* 


BIOGRAPHY    FOR    CHILDREN.  279 

At  the  risk  of  wearisome  repetition,  I  must  again 
say,  that  I  care  as  little  about  driving  "  useful  knowl- 
edge" into  a  boy,  as  the  most  ultra  Cambridge-man 
could  wish  ;  but  I  want  to  get  the  boy  to  hive  wide 
sympathies,  and  to  teach  himself;  and  I  should  there- 
fore select  the  great  men  from  very  different  periods 
and  countries,  that  his  net  of  interest  (if  I  am  allowed 
the  metaphor)  may  be  spread  in  all  waters. 

When  we  have  thus  got  our  boys  to  form  the  ac- 
quaintance of  great  men,  they  will  have  certain  as- 
sociations connected  with  many  towns  and  countries. 
Constant  reference  should  be  made  to  the  map,  and 
the  boys*  knowledge  and  interest  will  thus  make  set 
tlements  in  different  parts  of  the  globe.  These  may 
be  extended  by  a  good  book  of  travels,  especially  of 
voyages  of  discovery.  There  are,  no  dqubt,  many  such 
books  suitable  for  the  purpose,  but  the  only  one  I 
have  met  with  is  Miss  Hack's  "Winter  Evenings;  or 
Tales  of  Travelers,"  which  has  been  a  great  favorite 
with  children  for  the  last  five-and-lwenty  years  at 
least.  This  is  a  capital  book,  but  the  very  childish 
conversations  interpolated  in  the  narratives  would 
disgust  a  boy  a  little  too  old  for  them,  much  more  than 

than  profitable  unto  others.  Whereas  stories  are  fit  for  everyplace, 
reach  lo  all  persons,  serve  for  all  times:  teach  the  living,  revive  the 
dead ;  so  far  excelling  all  other  books,  as  it  is  better  to  see  learning 
in  noble  men's  lives  than  to  read  it  in  philosopher's  writings.  Now 
for  the  author  ...  I  believe  I  might  be  bold  to  affirm  that  he  hath 
written  the  profitablest  story  of  all  authors;  .  .  .  being  excellent  in 
wit,  learning,  and  experience,  he  hath  chosen  the  special  acts  of  the 
best  persons  of  the  famousest  nations  of  the  world." — Sir  TAomai 
NortVs  Dedication  to  ^ueen  Elixabetk  of  his  translation  of  Plu- 
tarch 


28o  THOUGHTS    AND   SUGGESTIONS. 


they  would  an  adult  reader.  In  studying  sucli  travels, 
the  map  should,  of  course,  be  always  in  sight;  and 
outline  maps  may  be  filled  up  by  the  boys,  as  they 
learn  about  the  places  in  the  traveler's  route.  Any 
one  who  has  had  the  management  of  a  school  library 
knows  how  popular  "voyage  and  venture  "is  with 
the  boys  who  have  passed  the  stage  in  which  the 
picture-books  of  animals  were  the  main  attraction. 
Captain  Cook,  Mungo  Park,  and  Admiral  Byron 
are  heroes  without  whom  boyhood  would  be  incom- 
plete ;  but  as  boys  are  engrossed  by  the  adventures, 
and  never  trouble  themselves  about  the  map,  they 
often  remember  the  incidents  without  knowing  where 
they  happened. 

Of  course  school  geographies  never  mention  such 
people  as  celebrated  travelers  :  if  they  did,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  give  all  the  principal  geographical, 
names  in  the  world  within  the  compass  of  two  hundred 
pages. 

What  might  we  fairly  expect  from  such  a  course  of 
teaching  as  1  have  here  suggested? 

At  the  end  of  a  year  and  a  half  or  two  years  from 
the  age,  say,  of  nine,  the  boy  would  read  aloud  well, 
he  would  write  fairly,  he  would  spell  all  common 
English  words  correctly ;  he  would  have  had  his 
interest  excited  or  increased  in  common  objects,  such 
as  animals,  trees,  and  plants  ;  he  would  have  made  the 
acquaintance  of  some  great  men,  and  traced  the 
voyages  of  some  great  travelers ;  he  would  be  able  to 
say  by  heart  some  of  the  best  simple  English  po- 
etry, and  his  ear  would  be  familiar  with  the  sound  of 
good  English  prose.  Above  all,  he  would  not  have 
learned  to  look  upon  books  and  school-time  as  the 


OUTCOME    OF   THE   COURSE.  28l 

torment  of  his  life,  nor  have  fallen  into  the  habit  of 
giving  them  as  little  of  his  attention  as  he  could  re- 
concile with  immunity  from  "the  cane.  The  benefit 
of  this  negative  result,  at  all  events,  might  prove  in- 
calculable. 
24 


XL 

MORAL  x\ND  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION. 


All  who  are  acquainted  with  the  standard  treatises  on 
the  theory  of  education,  and  also  with  the  manage- 
ment of  schools,  will  have  observed  that  moral  and 
religious  training  occupies  a  larger  and  more  promi- 
nent space  in  theory  than  in  practice.  On  considera- 
tion, we  shall  find  perhaps  that  this  might  naturally 
be  expected.  Of  course  we  are  all  agreed  that  mor- 
ality is  more  important  than  learning,  and  masters 
who  are  many  of  them  clergymen,  will  hardly  be 
accused  of  underestimating  the  value  of  religion. 
Why,  then,  does  not  moral  and  religious  training 
receive  a  larger  share  of  the  master's  attention?  The 
reason  I  take  to  be  this.  Experience  shows  that  it 
depends  directly  on  the  master  whether  a  boy  ac- 
quires knowledge,  but  only  indirectly,  and  in  a  much 
less  degree,  whether  he  grows  up  a  good  and  religious 
man.  The  aim  which  engrosses  most  of  our  time  is 
likely  to  absorb  an  equal  share  of  our  interest ;  and 
thus  it  happens  that  masters,  especially  those  who 
never  associate  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  their  pupils 
out  of  school,  throw  energy  enough  into  making  boys 
learn,  but  seldom  think  at  all  ot  the  development  of 
their  character,  or  about  their  thoughts  and  feelings 
in  matters  of  religion.  This  statement  may  indeed 
be  exaggerated,  but  no  one  who  has  the  means  of 
(38a) 


INFLUENCE    OF    THE    MASTER.  283 


judtjing  will  assert  that  it  is  altogether  witliout  foun- 
dation. And  yet,  although  a  master  can  be  more  cer- 
tain of  sending  out  his  pupils  well  taught  than  well 
principled,  his  influence  on  their  character  is  much 
greater  than  it  might  appear  to  a  superficial  observer. 
I  intend  speaking  presently  of  formal  religious  in- 
struction. I  refer  now  to  the  teacher's  indirect  in- 
fluence. The  results  of  his  formal  leaching  vary  as 
its  amount,  but  he  can  apply  no  such  gauge  to  his  in- 
lormal  teaching.  A  few  words  of  earnest  advice  or 
remonstrance,  which  a  boy  hears  at  the  right  time 
from  a  man  whom  he  respects,  may  affect  that  boy's 
character  for  life.  Here  everything  depends,  not  on 
the  words  used,  but  on  the  feeling  with  vvhirh  they  are 
spoken,  and  on  the  way  in  which  the  speaker  is  re- 
garded by  the  hearer.  In  such  matters  the  master 
has  a  much  more  delicate  and  difficult  task  thnn  in 
mere  instruction.  The  words,  indeed,  are  soon 
spoken,  but  that  which  gives  them  their  influence  is 
not  soon  or  easily  acquired.  Here,  as  in  so  man} 
other  instances,  we  may  in  a  few  minutes  throw  down 
what  it  has  cost  us  days — perhaps  years — to  build  up. 
An  unkind  word  will  destroy  the  effects  of  long-con- 
tinued kindness.  Boys  always  form  their  opinion  of 
a  man  from  the  worst  they  know  of  him.  Experience 
has  not  yet  taught  them  that  good  people  have  their 
failings,  and  bad  people  their  virtues.  If  the  scholars 
find  the  master  at  times  harsh  and  testy,  they  can  not 
believe  in  his  kindness  of  heart  and  care  tor  their 
welfare.  They  do  not  see  that  he  may  have  an  ideal 
before  him  to  which  he  is  partly,  though  not  wholly, 
true.  They  judge  him  by  his  demeanor  in  his  least 
guarded  moments — at  times  when  he  is  jaded  and  dis- 


284  MORAL    AND    RELIGIOUS    EDUCATION. 

satisfied  with  the  results  of  his  labors.  At  such  times 
the  bonds  of  sympathy  between  him  and  his  pupils 
hang  loose.  He  is  conscious  only  of  his  power  and 
of  his  mental  superiority.  Feeling  almost  a  contempt 
for  the  boys*  weakness,  he  does  not  care  for  theii 
opinion  of  him,  or  think  for  an  instant  what  impres- 
sion he  is  making  by  his  words  and  conduct.  He 
gives  full  play  to  his  arbt'trtum,  and  says  or  does 
something  which  seems  to  the  boys  to  reveal  him  in 
his  true  character,  and  which  causes  them  ever  after 
to  distrust  his  kindness. 

When  we  consider  the  way  in  which  masters  en- 
deavor to  gain  influence,  we  shall  find  that  they  may 
be  divided  roughly  into  two  parties,  whom  I  will  call, 
as  a  matter  of  convenience,  realists  and  idealists.  A 
teacher  of  the  real  party  endeavors  to  appear  to  his 
pupils  precisely  as  he  is.  He  will  hear  of  no  restraint 
except  that  of  decorum.  He  believes  that  if  he  is  as 
much  the  superior  of  his  pupils  as  he  ought  to  be,  his 
authority  will  take  care  of  itself,  without  his  casting 
round  it  a  wall  of  artificial  reserve.  "  Be  natural,"  he 
says  ;  "  get  rid  of  affectations  and  shams  of  all  kinds  ; 
and  then,  if  there  is  any  good  in  you,  it  will  tell  or 
those  around  you.  Whatever  is  bad,  would  be  felt  just 
as  surely  in  disguise ;  and  the  disguise  would  only  be 
an  additional  source  of  mischief."  The  idealists,  on 
the  other  hand,  wish  their  pupils  to  think  of  them  as 
they  ought  to  be,  rather  than  as  they  are.  They 
urjje  atjainst  the  realists  that  our  words  and  actions 
can  not  always  be  in  harmony  with  our  thoughts  and 
feelings,  however  much  we  may  desire  to  make  them 
80.     Wo    must,    therefore,   they   say,   reconcile   our 


TWO    KINDS    OF   TEACHERS.  285 

selves  10  this  fact ;  and  since  our  words  and  actions 
are  more  under  our  control  than  our  thoughts  and 
feelings,  we  must  make  them  as  nearly  as  possible 
what  they  should  be,  instead  of  debasing  them  to  in 
voluntary  thoughts  and  feelir^gs  vviiich  are  not  worthy 
of  us.  Then,  again,  the  idealist  teacher  may  say, 
♦*  The  young  require  some  one  to  look  up  to.  In  my 
better  moments  I  am  not  altogether  unworthy  of  their  re- 
spect, but  if  they  knew  all  my  weaknesses,  they  would 
naturally,  and  perhaps  justly,  despise  me.  For  their 
sakes,  therefore,  I  must  keep  my  weaknesses  out  of 
sight,  and  the  effort  to  do  this  demands  a  certain  re- 
serve in  all  our  intercourse." 

I  suppose  an  excess  of  either  realism  or  idealism 
might  lead  to  mischievous  results.  The  '*  real  "  man 
might  be  wanting  in  self-restraint,  and, might  say  and 
do  things  which,  though  not  wrong  in  themselves, 
might  have  a  bad  effect  on  the  young.  Then,  again, 
the  lower  and  more  worldly  side  of  his  character 
might  show  itself  in  too  strong  relief,  and  his  pupils 
seeing  this  mainly,  and  supposing  that  they  under- 
stood him  entirely,  might  disbelieve  in  his  higher  mo- 
tives and  religious  feeling.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
idealists  are,  as  it  were,  walking  on  stilts.  They  gain 
no  real  influence  by  their  separation  from  their  pupils, 
and  they  are  always  liable  to  an  accident  which  may 
expose  them  to  their  ridicule. 

I  am,  therefore,  though  with  some  limitation,  in 
favor  of  the  natural  school.  I  am  well  aware,  how- 
ever, what  an  immense  demand  this  system  makes  on 
the  master  who  desires  to  exercise  a  good  influence 
on  the  moral  and  religious  character  of  his  pupils.     If 


286  MORAL   AND    RELIGIOUS   EDUCATION. 


he  would  have  his  pupils  know  him  as  he  is,  if  he 
would  have  them  think  as  he  thinks,  feel  as  he  feels, 
and  believe  as  he  believes,  he  must  be,  at  least  in 
heart  and  aim,  worthy  of  their  imitation.  He  must 
(with  reverence  be  it  spoken)  enter,  in  his  humble 
way,  into  the  spirit  of  the  perfect  Teacher,  who  said, 
*'  For  their  sakes  I  sanctify  myself,  that  they  also  may 
be  sanctified  in  truth.''  Are  we  prepared  to  look  upon 
our  calling  in  this  light?  I  believe  that  the  school- 
teachers of  this  country  need  not  fear  comparison  with 
any  other  body  of  men,  in  point  of  morality  and  re- 
ligious earnestness  ;  but  I  dare  say  many  have  found, 
as  I  have,  that  the  occupation  is  a  very  narrozvitig ox\q, 
that  the  teacher  soon  gets  to  work  in  a  groove,  and 
from  having  his  thoughts  so  much  occupied  with 
routine  work,  especially  with  small  fault  findings  and 
small  corrections,  he  is  apt  to  settle  down  insensibly 
into  a  kind  of  moral  and  intellectual  stagnation — 
Philistinism,  as  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  would  call  it — in 
which  he  cares  as  little  for  high  aims  and  general 
principles  as  his  most  commonplace  pupil.  Thus  it 
happens  sometimes  that  a  man  who  set  out  with  the 
notion  of  developing  all  the  powers  of  his  pupils' 
minds,  thinks  in  the  end  of  nothing  but  getting  them 
to  work  out  equations  and  do  Latin  exercises  without 
false  concords ;  and  the  clergyman  even  who  began 
with  a  strong  sense  of  his  responsibility,  and  a  confi- 
dent hope  of  influencing  the  boys'  belief  and  char- 
acter at  length  is  quite  content  if  they  conform  to  dis- 
cipline, and  give  him  no  trouble  out  of  school- 
hours.  We  may  say  of  a  really  good  teacher  what 
Wordsworth  says  of  the  poet ;  in  his  work  he  must 
neither 


PHILISTINISM   AND   OVER- WORK.  iS'J 


lack  that  first  great  gift,  the  vital  soul, 
Nor  general  truths,  which  are  themselves  a  «ort 
Of  elements  and  agents,  ander-powcrs, 
Subordinate  helpers  of  the  living  mind. — Prelude,  i.  9. 

But  the  "  vital  soul  "  is  too  often  crushed  by  excessive 
routine  labor,  and  then  when  general  truths,  both 
moral  and  intellectual,  have  ceased  to  interest  us,  dui 
own  education  stops,  and  we  become  incapable  of  ful- 
filling the  highest  and  most  important  part  of  our  duty 
in  educating  others. 

It  is,  then,  the  duty  of  the  teacher  to  resist  gravi- 
tating into  this  state,  no  less  for  his  pupils'  sake  than  for 
his  own.  The  ways  and  means  of  doing  this  I  am 
by  no  means  competent  to  point  out ;  so  I  will  merely 
insist  on  the  importance  of  teachers  not  being  over- 
worked— a  matter  which  has  not,  I  think,  hitherto  re- 
ceived due  attention. 

We  can  not  expect  intellectual  activity  of  men  whose 
minds  are  compelled  "  with  pack-horse  constancy  to 
keep  the  road  "  hour  after  hour,  till  they  are  too  jaded 
for  exertion  of  any  kind.  The  man  himself  suffers, 
and  his  work,  even  his  easiest  work,  suffers  also.  It 
may  be  laid  down  as  a  general  rule,  that  no  one  can 
teach  long  and  teach  well.  All  satisfactory  teaching 
and  management  of  boys  absolutely  require  that  the 
master  should  be  in  good  spirits.  When  the  "  genial 
spirits  fail,"  as  they  must  from  an  overdose  of  monot- 
onous work,  everything  goes  wrong  directl3'.  The 
master  has  no  longer  the  power  of  keeping  the  boys' 
attention,  and  has  to  resort  to  punishments  even  to  pre- 
serve order.  His  gloom  quenches  their  interest  and 
mental  activity,  just  as  fire  goes  out  before  carbonic 
acid  ;  and  ni  the  end  teacher  and  taught  acquire,  not 
without  cause,  a  feeling  of  mutual  aversion. 


28S  MORAL   AND   RELIQIOUS   EDUCATION. 

And  another  reason  why  the  master  should  not 
spend  the  greater  part  of  his  time  in  formal  teaching 
is  this — his  doing  so  compels  him  to  neglect  the  in- 
formal but  very  important  teaching  he  may  both  give 
and  receive  by  making  his  pupils  his  companions. 

I  fear  I  shall  be  met  here  by  an  objection  which  has 
only  too  much  force  in  it.  Most  Englishmen  are 
at  a  loss  how  to  make  any  use  of  leisure.  If  a  man 
has  no  turn  for  thinking,  no  fondness  for  reading, 
and  is  without  a  hobby,  what  good  shall  his  leisure 
do  him?  He  will  only  pass  it  in  insipid  gossip, 
from  which  any  easy  work  would  be  a  relief.  That 
this  is  so,  in  many  cases,  is  a  proof,  to  my  mind, 
of  the  utter  failure  of  our  ordinary  education  ;  and 
perhaps  an  improved  education  may  some  day  alter 
what  now  seems  a  national  peculiarity.  Meantime 
the  mind,  even  of  Englishmen,  is  more  than  a  "  succe- 
(laneum  for  salt,"*  and  its  tendency  to  bury  its  sight 
ostrich-fashion,  under  a  heap  of  routine  work,  must 
be  strenuously  resisted,  if  it  is  to  escape  its  deadly 
enemies,  stupidity  and  ignorance. 

I  have  elsewhere  expressed  what  I  believe  is  the 
common  conviction  of  those  who  have  seen  something 
both  of  large  schools  and  of  small,  viz.,  that  the 
moral  atmosphere  of  the  former  is,  as  a  rule,  by  far 
the  more  wholesome  ;f  and  also  that  each  boy  is  more 

*  "  That  you  are  wife 

To  so  much  bloated  flesh  as  scarce  hath  soul 
Instead  of  salt,  to  keep  it  siveet,  I  think 
Will  ask  no  witnesses  to  prove." 

Ben  Jonson  :    The  Devil  is  an  Ass,  Act  i.,  sc.  3. 

fl  ha've  quoted  De  Qiiincey  on  this  subject  (^supra,  p.  72,  note). 
Here  *8  the  testimony  of  a  schoolmaster  to  the  sam%  effect.  Mr. 
HopSj  in  his  amusinu  "  Book  about  Dominies,"  sajs,  that  a  school 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  ELDER  BOYS.       289 


influenced  by  his  companions  than  by  his  master. 
More  than  this,  I  believe  that  in  many,  perhaps  in 
most,  schools,  one  or  two  boys  aflect  the  tone  of  the 
whole  body  more  than  any  master.*  What  are  called 
Preparatory  Schools  labor  under  this  immense  dis- 
advantage, that  their  ruling  spirits  are  mere  children 
without  reflection  or  sense  of  responsibility.  But 
where  the  leading  boys  are  virtually  young  men, 
these  may  be  made  a  medium  through  which  the  mind 
of  the  master  may  act  upon  the  whole  school.  They 
can  enter  into  the  thoughts,  feelings,  and  aims  of  the 
master  on  the  one  hand,  and  they  know  what  is  said 
and  done  among  the  bo3's  on  the  other.     The  master 

of  from  twenty  to  a  hundred  boys  is  too  large  to  be  altogether  un- 
der the  influence  of  one  man,  and  too  small  for  the  development  of  a 
liealthycondition  of  public  opinion  among  the  boys  themselves.  "In  ;i 
community  of  fifty  boys,  there  will  always  be  found  so  many  bad 
ones  who  will  be  likely  to  carry  things  their  own  way.  Vice  is  more 
unblushing  in  small  societies  than  in  large  ones.  Fifty  boys  will 
be  more  easily  leavened  by  the  wickedness  of  five,  than  five  hundred  by 
that  0/ fifty.  It  would  be  too  dangerous  an  ordeal  to  send  a  boy  to 
a  school  where  sin  appears  fashionable,  and  where,  if  he  would  re- 
main virtuous,  he  must  shun  his  companions.  There  may  be  mid- 
dle-sized schools  wiiich  derive  a  good  and  healthy  tone  from  the 
moral  strength  of  their  masters,  or  the  good  example  of  a  certain 
set  of  boys,  but  I  doubt  if  there  are  many.  Boys  are  so  easily  led 
to  do  right  or  wrong,  that  we  should  be  very  careful  at  least  to  set 
the  balance  fairly"  (p.  167);  and  again  he  says  (p.  170),  "  The  moral 
tone  of  a  middle-sized  school  will  be  peculiarly  liable  to  be  at  the 
mercy  of  a  set  of  bold  and  bad  boys." 

"  "  The  moral  tone  of  the  school  is  made  what  it  is,  not  nearly  so 
much  by  its  rules  and  regulations  or  its  masters,  as  by  the  leading 
characters  among  the  boys.  They  mainly  determine  the  public 
opinion  amongst  their  schoolfollows — their  personal  influence  is  in- 
calculable." I  quote  these  words  of  a  master  whose  opinion  is  re- 
spected by  all  who  know  him,  because  I  have  been  thought  to  exprest 
myself  too  strongly  on  this  >H>int 
25 


290  MORAL   AND   RELlGtOUS   EDUCATION. 

must,  therefore,  know  the  elder  boys  intimately,  and 
they  must  know  him.  This  consummation,  however, 
will  not  be  arrived  at  without  great  tact  and  self-denial 
on  the  part  of  the  master.  The  youth,  who  is 
♦*  neither  man  nor  boy,"  is  apt  to  be  sh)'^  and  awkward, 
and  is  not  by  any  means  so  easy  to  entertain  as  the 
lad  who  chatters  freel}'  of  the  school's  cricket  or  foot- 
ball, past,  present,  and  to  come.  But  the  master  who 
feels  how  all-important  is  the  tone  of  the  school,  will 
not  grudge  any  pains  to  influence  those  on  whom  it 
chiefly  depends. 

But,  allowing  the  value  of  all  these  indirect  influ- 
ences, can  we  afford  to  neglect  direct  formal  religious 
instruction  ?  We  have  most  of  us  the  greatest  horror 
of  what  we  call  a  secular  education,  meaning  thereby 
an  education  without  formal  religious  teachinor.  But 
this  horror  seems  to  affect  our  theor}'^  more  than  our 
practice.  Few  parents  ever  inquire  what  religioui^ 
instruction  their  sons  get  at  Eton,  Harrow,  or  West- 
minster. I  am  told  that,  in  amount  at  least,  it  is  quite 
insignificant ;  and  I  can  myself  vouch  for  the  fact, 
that  once  upon  a  time  the  lower  forms  at  one  of  these 
had  no  religious  instruction  except  a  weekly  lesson  in 
Watts' "  Scripture  History."  Even  in  some  national 
schools,  where  the  managers  would  rather  close  their 
doors  altogether  than  accept  the  "  Conscience-clause," 
the  religious  instruction  is  confined  to  teaching  the 
Catechism  by  heart,  and  using  the  Bible  as  a  reading- 
book. 

In  this  matter  we  differ  very  widely  from  the  Ger- 
mans. All  their  classes  have  a  "religion-lesson" 
{Reltgtonsiunde)  nearly  every  day,  the  younger  chil- 
dren in  the  German  Bible,  the  elder  in  the   Greek 


RELIGIOUS     INSTRUCTION.  29I 

Testament  or  Church  History  ;  and  in  all  cases  the 
teacher  is  careful  to  instruct  his  pupils  in  the  tenets  of 
Luther  or  Calvin.  The  Germans  may  urge  that  if  we 
believe  a  set  of  doctrines  to  be  a  fitting  expression  of 
Divine  revelation,  it  is  our  first  duty  to  make  tiie  young 
familiar  with  those  doctrines.  I  can  not  say,  how- 
ever, that  I  have  been  favorably  impressed  by  the  re- 
ligion-lessons I  have  heard  given  in  German  schools. 
I  do  not  deny  that  dogmatic  teaching  is  necessary, 
but  the  first  thing  to  cultivate  in  the  young  is  rever- 
ence ;  and  reverence  is  surely  in  danger  if  you  take 
a  class  in  "  religion  "  just  as  you  take  a  class  in  gram- 
mar. Emerson  says  somewhere,  that  to  the  poet,  the 
saint,  and  the  philosopher,  all  distinction  of  sacred 
and  profane  ceases  to  exist,  all  things  become  alike 
sacred.  As  the  schoolboy,  however,  dqes  not  as  yet 
come  under  any  one  of  these  denominations,  if  the 
distinction  ceases  to  exist  for  him,  all  things  will  be- 
come alike  profane. 

I  believe  that  religious  instruction  is  conveyed  in 
the  most  impressive  way  when  it  is  connected  with 
worship.  Where  the  prayers  are  joined  with  the  read- 
ing of  Scripture,  and  with  occasional  simple  addresses, 
and  where  the  congregation  have  responses  to  repeat, 
and  psalms  and  hymns  to  sing,  there  is  reason  to  hope 
tiiat  boys  will  increase,  not  only  in  knowledge,  but  in 
wisdom  and  reverence  too.  Without  asserting  that 
the  Church  of  England  service  is  the  best  possible  for 
the  3'oung,  I  hold  that  any  form  forthem  should  at  least 
resemble  it  in  its  main  features,  should  be  as  varied  as 
possible,  should  require  frequent  change  of  posture, 
and  should  give  the  congregation  much  to  say  and 
sing.     The   Church   of  Rome   is   wise,   I  think,  in 


292  MORAL   AND    RELIGIOUS    EDUCATION. 

making  more  use  than  we  do  of  litanies.  The  service, 
whatever  its  form,  should  be  conducted  "with  great  so- 
lemnity, and  the  boys  should  not  sit  or  kneel  so  close 
together  that  the  badly  disposed  may  disturb  their 
neighbors  who  try  to  join  in  the  act  of  worship.  If 
good  hj'^mns  are  sung,  these  may  be  taken  occasionally 
as  the  subject  of  an  address,  so  that  attention  may  be 
drawn  to  their  meaning.  Music  should  be  carefully 
attended  to,  and  the  danger  of  irreverence  at  practices 
guarded  against  by  never  using  sacred  words  more 
than  is  necessary,  and  by  impressing  on  the  singers 
the  sacredness  of  everything  connected  with  Divine 
worship.  Questions  combined  with  instruction  may 
sometimes  keep  up  boys'  attention  better  than  a  formal 
sermon.  Though  common  prayer  should  be  frequent, 
this  should  not  be  supposed  to  take  the  place  of  private 
prayer.  In  many  schools  boys  have  hardly  an  op- 
portunity for  private  prayer.  They  kneel  down,  per- 
haps, with  all  the  talk  and  play  of  their  schoolfellows 
going  on  around  them,  and  sometimes  fear  of  public 
opinion  prevents  their  kneeling  down  at  all.  A  school- 
master can  not  teach  private  prayer,  but  he  can  at 
least  see  that  there  is  opportunity  for  it. 

These  observations  of  mine  only  touch  the  surface 
of  this  most  important  subject,  and  do  not  point  the 
way  to  any  efficient  religious  education.  In  fact,  I 
believe  that  education  to  piety,  as  far  as  it  lies  in  human 
hands,  must  consist  almost  entirely  in  the  influence  of 
the  pious  superior  over  his  inferiors.* 

*  *'  What  is  education  ?  It  is  that  which  is  imbibed  from  the  moral 
atmosphere  which  a  child  breathes.  It  is  the  involuntary  and  un- 
conscious language  of  its  parents  and  of  all  those  by  whom  it  is 
surrounded,  and  not  their  set  speeches  and  set  lectuies.     It  is  th« 


OPINION   IN   MATTERS    OF   CONTROVERSY.        293 

In  conclusion,  I  wish  to  say  a  word  on  the  educa- 
tion of  opinion.  Helps  lays  great  stress  on  preparing 
the  way  to  moderation  and  open-mindedness,  by 
teaching  boys  that  all  good  men  aie  not  of  the  same 
way  of  thinking.  It  is  indeed  a  miserable  error  to 
lead  a  young  person  to  suppose  that  his  small  ideas 
are  a  measure  ol  the  universe,  and  that  all  who  do  not 
accept  his  formularies  are  less  enlightened  than  him- 
self. If  a  young  man  is  so  brought  up,  he  either  car- 
ries intellectual  blinkers  all  his  life,  or,  what  is  far 
more  probable,  he  finds  that  something  he  has  been 
taught  is  false,  and  forthwith  begins  to  doubt  every- 
thing. On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  necessity  with  the 
young  to  believe,  and  we  could  not,  even  if  we  would, 
bring  a  youth  into  such  a  slate  of  mind  as  to  regard 
everytiiing  about  which  there  is  any  variet}'  of  opinion 
as  an  open  question.  But  he  may  be  taught  reverence 
and  humility  ;  he  may  be  taught  to  reflect  how  infi- 
nitely greater  the  facts  of  the  universe  must  be  than 
our  poor  thoughts  about  them,  and  how  inadequate 
are  words  to  express  even  our  imperfect  thoughts. 
Then  he  will  not  suppose  that  all  truth  has  been  taught 
him  in  his  formularies,  nor  that  he  understands  even 
all  the  truth  of  which  those  formularies  are  the  im- 
perfect expression.* 

words  which  the  young  hear  fall  from  their  seniors  when  the  speak* 
ers  are  off  their  guard  :  and  it  is  by  these  unconscious  expressions 
that  the  child  interprets  the  hearts  of  its  parents.  That  is  educa- 
tion." — DnimmoHd^s  Speeches  in  Parliament. 

*  In  what  I  have  said  on  this  subject,  the  incompleteness  which  is 
noticeable  enough  in  the  preceding  essays,  has  found  an  appropriate 
climax.  I  see  too  that,  if  any  one  would  t«ke  the  trouble,  the  little 
r  have  said  might  easily  be  misinterpreted.  I  am  well  aware,  how- 
ever, that  if  the  young  mind  will  not  readily  assimilate  sharply  de 


294  MORAL,   AND    RELIGIOUS   EDUCATION. 

fining  religious  formula,  still  less  will  it  feel  at  home  among  the 
"immensities"  and  "veracities."  The  great  educating  force  of 
Christianity  I  believe  to  be  due  to  this,  that  it  is  not  a  set  of  abstrac- 
tions or  vague  generalities,  but  that  in  it  God  reveals  Himself  to  us  in 
a  Divine  Man,  and  raises  us  through  our  devotion  to  Him.  I  hold 
therefore  that  religious  teaching  for  the  young  should  neither  be 
vague  nor  abstract.  Mr.  Froude,  in  commenting  on  the  use  made 
of  hagiology  in  the  Church  of  Rome,  has  shown  that  we  lose  much 
by  net  following  the  Bible  method  of  instruction.  (Sec  Short  Stud- 
its  :  Lives  of  the  Saints  and  Representative  Men-) 


APPENDIX. 


CLASS  MATCHES. 

With  young  classes  I  have  tried  the  Jesuits'  plan  of 
matches,  and  have  found  it  answer  exceedingly  well.  The 
top  boy  and  the  second  pick  up  sides  (in  schoolboy 
phrase),  the  second  boy  having  first  choice.  The  same 
sides  may  be  kept  till  the  superiority  of  one  of  them  is 
clearly  established,  when  it  becomes  necessary  to  pick  up 
again.  The  matches,  if  not  too  frequent,  prove  an  excel- 
lent break  to  the  monotony  of  school-work.  A  subject 
well  suited  for  them  (as  Franklin  pointed  out)  is  spelling. 
The  boys  are  told  that  on  a  certain  day  there  will  be  a 
match  in  the  spelling  of  some  particular  class  of  words — 
say  words  of  one  syllable,  or  the  preterites  of  verbs.  For 
the  match  the  sides  are  arranged  in  lines  opposite  one 
another ;  the  dux  of  one  side  questions  the  dux  of  the 
other,  the  second  boy  the  second,  and  so  forth.  The 
match  may  be  conducted  viva  voce,,  or,  better  still,  by 
papers  previously  written.  Each  boy  has  to  bring  on  paper 
a  list  of  the  right  sort  of  words.  Suppose  six  is  the  num- 
ber required,  he  will  write  a  column  with  a  few  to  spare, 
as  some  of  his  words  may  be  disallowed  by  the  umpire,  i.  e., 
tlie  master.  The  master  takes  the  first  boy's  list,  and  asks 
tlu  top  boy  on  the  opposite  side  to  spell  the  words.  When 
he  fails,  the  owner  of  the  list  has  to  correct  him,  and  gets 
a  mark  for  doing  so.  Should  the  owner  of  the  list  himself 
make  a  mistake,  his  opponent  scores  even  if  he  is  wrong, 
also.  When  the  master  has  gone  through  all  the  lists  in  this 
way,  he  adds  up  the  marks,  and  announces  which  side  has 
won.     The  method  has  the  great  merit  of  stimulating  the 

(395) 


296  APPENDIX. 

— « 


l()wer  end  of  the  form  as  well  as  the  top ;  for  it  usually  hap 
pens  that  the  match  is  really  decided  by  the  lower  boys,  who 
make  the  most  mistakes.  Of  course  the  details  and  the  siil> 
jects  of  such  matches  admit  of  almost  endless  variation. 


DOCTRINALE  ALEXANDRI   DE  VILLA  DEL 

This  celebrated  grammar  was  written  by  a  Franciscan 
of  Brittany,  about  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century.  It 
is  in  leonine  verses.  To  the  verses  is  attached  a  commen- 
tary, which  is  by  no  means  superfluous.  The  book  begins 
thus: 

Scribere  clericulis  paro  Doctrinale  novellis, 
Pluraque  doctorum  sociabo  scripta  meorum. 
Jamque  legent  pueri  pro  nugis  Maximiani 
Quae  veteres  sociis  nolebant  pandere  caris. 

[Maximianus,  says  the  commentary,  was  a  scriptor  fab" 
ularum.'] 

Presens  huic  operi  sit  gratia  Pneumatis  almi : 
Me  juvat:  et  faciat  complere  quod  utile  fiat- 
Si  pueri  primo  nequeunt  attendere  plene, 
Hie  tamen  attendat,  qui  doctoris  est  vice  fungens, 
Atque  legens  pueris  laica  lingua  reserabit, 
Et  pueris  etiam  pars  maxima  plana  patebit. 
Voces  in  primis,  quas  par  casus  variabis, 
Ut  levius  potero,  te  declinare  docebo. 
etc.  etc. 

If  Alexander  kept  his  promise,  he  certainly  had  no  faculty 
for  making  things  easy.  Take,  e.  g.,  his  notion  of  teaching 
the  singular  of  the  first  declension  : — 

Rectus  asy  es,  a,  dat  declinatio  prima, 

Atque  per  am  propria  quaedam  ponuntur  hebraea; 

Dans  a  diphthongon  genitivis  atqua  dativis. 


APPENDIX.  297 


Am  servat  quartus,  tamcn  an  aut  en  rcperimus, 
Cum  rectus  fit  in  as  vel  in  es,  vel  cum  dat  a  Graecun. 
Rectus  in  a  Grseci  facit  an  quarto  breviari. 
Qiiintus  in  a  dabitur,  post  es  tamen  *  reperitur. 
A  sextus,  tamen  cs  quandoque  per  e  dare  debes 
Am  recti  repetes,  quinto  sextum  sociando. 

I  read  this  wonderful  grammar  (not  much  of  it,  how- 
cvei)  with  great  satisfaction.  Our  researches  sometimes 
bring  a  feeling  of  despondency,  and  we  think  that  knowl- 
edge comes,  but  wisdom  lingers.  But  here  is  some  evi- 
dence to  the  contrary.  Part  of  the  knowledge  given  by 
Alexander  about  the  first  declension  has,  happily,  never 
come  even  to  most  teachers  of  the  present  day;  and,  how- 
ever unsatisfactory  may  be  our  condition  with  regard  to 
wisdom,  we  certainly  are  in  advance  of  those  masters  who 
used  the  "  Doctrinale." 


LILY'S  GRAMMAR. 


In  some  respects  further  simplification  has  since  been 
effected  as,  e.  g.,  in  the  matter  of  genders.  The  "  Short 
Introduction  of  Grammar,"  commonly  called  the  "  King's 
Book,"  and  afterward  "  Lily's  Grammar,"  made  this  start- 
ling assertion  : — "Genders of  nounes  be  seven  :  the  mascu- 
line, the  feminine,  the  neuter,  the  commune  of  two,  the 
commune  of  three,  the  doubtful,  and  the  epicene."  The 
ingenious  authors  seem  not  to  have  discovered  any  Latin 
substantive  which  they  were  able  tirgcminis  tollere  honori- 
bus;  so  they  take  rather  unfair  advantage  of  the  fact  that 
adjectives  in  x  do  not  vary  in  the  nominative^  and  give  this 
example  of  the  common  of  three — "  The  commune  of  three 
is  declined  with  hie,  haec,  and  hoc :  as  hie,  haec,  and  hoc, 
Felix,  Happy."  In  justice  to  the  old  book,  I  must  say, 
however,  that  some  of   the  later  simplifications  were   so 


298  APPENDIX. 

managed  as  to  be  doubtful  improvements.  Lily's  Graramai 
put  the  preposition  a  before  all  ablatives.  This  was  sinv 
plified  into  the  blunder  of  putting  it  before  none^  and  teach- 
ing boys,  e  g  that  Domino  alone  was  Latin  for  "  by  a 
lord."  Tl.e  old  grammar  had  an  optative  mood  with 
iiitinani  (  Utinam  sim^  "  I  pray  God  I  be  ;"  Utinam  essetn^ 
"  Would  God  I  were,"  etc.),  and  a  subjunctive  with  cum 
{cum  sim,  "  when  I  am,"  etc.)  These  gave  place  to  the 
mysterious  announcement  of  the  Eton  Grammar,  "  The 
subjunctive  mood  is  declined  like  the  potential."  The 
old  book  has,  besides  Lily's  Carmen  de  Moribus,  the 
Apostles'  Creed,  etc.,  in  Latin  verse.  The  following  clas- 
sical version  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  curious,  and  reminds 
one  of  Renaissance  architecture : — 

O  Pater  omnipotens,  clarique  habitator  Oljrmpi, 

Laudetur  merito  nomen  honore  tuum. 
Adveniat  regnum.     Tua  sit  rata  ubique  voluntas, 

Fiat  et  in  terris,  sicut  in  arce  poli. 
Da  nobis  hodie  panem,  et  nos  exime  noxse, 

Ut  veniam  nostris  hostibus  usque  damns. 
Nee  sine  tentando  Stygius  nos  opprimat  Error: 

Fac  animas  nostras  ut  mala  nulla  ligent. 

Amen. 

Our  Lord's  command,  '*  Go  teach  all  nations,"  is  thui 
rendered : — 

Ite  per  extremas  t>  vos  mea  viscera,  gentes; 

Cunctos  doctrinam  rite  docete  meam. 
Inque  Patris,  Natique  et  Flatus  nomine  Sancti 

Mortales  undis  sponte  lavate  sacris. 


APPENDIX.  299 


COLET. 

From  "  Joannis  Coleli  theologi,  olim  Decani  Divi  Pauli, 
editio,  una  cum  qiiibusdam  G.  Lilii  Grammatices  Riidi- 
mentis,  etc.  Antuerpix  1530."  After  the  accidence  of  the 
eight  parts  of  speech,  he  says : 

"  Of  these  eight  paits  of  speech,  in  order  well  construed, 
be  made  reasons  and  sentences,  and  long  orations.  But  how 
and  in  what  manner,  and  with  what  constructions  of  words, 
and  all  the  varieties,  and  diversities,  and  changes  in  Latin 
speech  (which  be  innumerable),  if  any  man  will  know,  and 
by  that  knowledge  attain  to  understand  Latin  books,  and  to 
speak  and  to  write  clean  Latin,  let  him,  above  all,  busily 
learn  and  read  good  Latin  authors  of  chosen  poets  and  ora- 
tors, and  note  wisely  how  they  wrote  and  spake  ;  and  study 
always  to  follow  them,  desiring  none  other  rules  but  theit 
examples.  For  in  the  beginning  men  spake  not  Latin  be- 
cause such  rules  were  made,  but,  contrarywise,  because  men 
spake  such  Latin,  upon  that  followed  the  njles,  and  were 
made.  That  is  to  say,  Latin  speech  was  before  the  rules, 
and  not  the  rules  before  the  Latin  speech.  Wherefore,  well 
beloved  masters  and  teachers  of  grammar,  after  the  parts  of 
speech  sufficiently  known  in  our  schools,  read  and  expound 
plainly  unto  your  scholars,  good  authors,  and  show  to 
them  [in]  every  word,  and  in  every  sentence,  what  they 
shall  note  and  observe,  warning  them  busily  to  follow  and 
do  like  both  in  writing  and  in  speaking ;  and  be  to  them 
your  own  self  also,  speaking  with  them  the  pure  Latin  very 
present,  and  leave  the  rules ;  for  reading  of  good  books, 
diligent  information  of  learned  masters,  studious  advertence 
and  taking  heed  of  learners,  hearing  eloquent  men  speak, 
and  finally,  busy  imitation  with*  tongue  and  pen,  more  avail- 
eth  shortly  to  get  the  true  eloquent  speech,  than  all  tlie  tra- 
ditions, rules,  and  precepts  of  masters." 


300  APPENDIX. 


The  British  Museum  copy  of- this  curious  little  book  ia 
bound  up  with  a  "  Rudimenta  Grammatices"  for  Ipswich, 
and  is  catalogued  under  Wolsey.  I  find  the  above  passage 
is  given  in  Knight's  "Life  of  Colet,"  and  is  referred  to  by 
Mr.  Seebohm. 


MULCASTER. 


Richard  Mulcaster,  who,  in  the  second  half  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  was  the  first  head-master  of  Merchant 
Tailors'  School,  and  in  1596  became  head-master  of  St. 
Paul's  School,  was  a  celebrated  man  in  his  day,  and  was 
highly  esteemed  by  Bishop  Andrews,  who  had  been  his 
pupil,  and  always  kept  a  portrait  of  him  hung  up  in  his 
Btudy.  Mulcaster  has  left  us  two  curious  books  on  educa- 
tion, the  "  Positions,"  and  the  "  Elementarie."  The  follow- 
ing defense  of  the  use  of  English  by  the  learned,  is  from  the 
latter : — 

"  Is  it  not  a  marvelous  bondage  to  become  servants  to 
one  tongue,  for  learning's  sake,  the  most  part  of  our  time, 
with  loss  of  most  time,  whereas  we  may  have  the  very  same 
treasure  in  our  own  tongue  with  the  gain  of  most  time?  our 
own  bearing  the  joyful  title  of  our  liberty  and  freedom,  the 
Latin  tongue  remembering  us  of  our  thraldom  and  bondage  ? 
I  love  Rome,  but  London  better  ;  I  favor  Italy,  but  England 
more :  I  honor  the  Latin,  but  1  worship  the  English.  .  .  . 
I  honor  foreign  tongues,  but  wish  my  own  to  be  partaker  of 
their  honor.  Knowing  them,  I  wish  my  own  tongue  to  re- 
semble their  grace.  I  confess  their  furniture,  and  wish  it 
were  ours.  .  .  .  The  diligent  labor  of  learned  countrymen 
did  so  enrich  those  tongues,  and  not  the  tongues  themselves  ; 
though  they  proved  very  pliable,  as  our  tongue  will  prove, 
I  dare  assure  it,  of  knowledge,  if  our  learned  countrymen 
will  put  to  their  labor.     And  why  not,  I  pray  you,  as  well 


APPENDIX.  301 


in  English  as  either  Latin  or  any  tongue  else?  Will  ye  say 
it  is  needless?  sure  that  will  not  hold.  If  loss  of  time,  while 
}c  be  pilgrims  to  learning,  by  lingering  about  tongues  be  no 
argument  of  need  ;  if  lack  of  sound  skill  while  the  tongue 
distracteth  sense  more  than  half  to  itself,  and  that  most  of 
all  in  a  simple  s'.udent  or  a  silly  wit,  be  no  argument  of  need, 
then  ye  say  somewhat  which  preten  1  no  need.  But  be 
cause  we  needed  not  to  lose  any  time  i-rtless  we  listed,  if  we 
had  such  a  vantage,  in  the  course  of  study,  as  we  now  lose 
while  we  travail  in  tongues  ;  and  because  our  understanding 
also  were  most  full  in  our  natural  speech,  though  we  know 
the  foreign  exceedingly  well — methink  necessity  itself  doth 
call  for  English^  whereby  all  that  gaiety  may  be  had  at 
home  which  makes  us  gaze  so  much  at  the  fine  stranger." 

Among  various  objections  to  the  use  of  English  which  he 
answers,  he  comes  to  this  one  :  — 

••'  But  will  ye  thus  break  oft'  the  common  conference  with 
the  learned  foreign  ?" 

To  this  his  answer  is  not  very  forcible : — 

''  The  conference  will  not  cease  while  the  people  have 
cause  to  interchange  dealings,  and  without  the  Latin  it  may 
well  be  continued  :  as  in  some  countries  thelearneder  sort  and 
some  near  cousins  to  the  Latin  itself  do  already  wean  their 
pens  and  tongues  from  the  use  of  the  Latin,  both  in  written 
discourse  and  spoken  disputation  into  their  own  natural,  and 
yet  no  dry  nuise  being  so  well  appointed  by  the  milch  nurse'? 
help." 

Further  on  he  says : — 

"The  Emperor  Justinian  said,  when  he  made  the  Insti- 
tutes of  force,  that  the  students  were  happy  in  having  such 
a  foredeal  [i.  e.,  advantage — German  Vortheir\  as  to  hear 
him  at  once,  and  not  to  wait  four  years  first.  And  doth  not 
our  languaging  hold  us  back  four  years  and  that  full,  think 
you?  .  .  [But  this'is  not  all.]  Our  best  understanding  is  in 
our  natural  tongue,  and  all  our  foreign  learning  is  applied 
to  our  use  by  means  of  our  own ;  and  without  the  applica- 


302  APPENDIX. 

tion  to  particular  use,  wherefore  serves  learning?  .  .  .  [As 
for  dishonoring  antiquity],  if  we  must  cleave  to  the  eldest 
and  not  the  best,  we  should  be  eating  acorns  and  wearing 
old  Adam's  pelts.  But  why  not  all  in  English,  a  tongue  of 
Itself  both  deep  in  conceit  and  frank  in  delivery?  I  do  not 
think  that  any  language,  be  it  whatsoever,  is  better  able  to 
utter  all  arguments  either  with  more  pith  or  greater  plain- 
ness than  our  English  tongue  is.  .  .  .  It  is  our  accident 
which  restrains  our  tongue  and  not  the  tongue  itself,  which 
will  strain  witli  the  strongest  and  stretch  to  the  furthest, 
for  cither  government  if  we  were  conquerors,  or  for  cun- 
ning if  we  were  treasurers;  not  any  whit  behind  either  the 
subtle  Greek  for  couching  close,  or  the  stately  Latin  for 
spreading  fair." 

There  is  much  more  in  the  same  strain,  but  I  have  already 
quoted  enough  to  show  how  vigorously  a  learned  man  and 
a  schoolmaster  in  the  sixteenth  century  took  the  side  of  the 
vernacular  against  the  Latin  language.  The  "  Elementarie  " 
is  now,  of  course,  a  scarce  book.  There  are  two  copies  of  it 
in  the  British  Museum,  but  none  that  I  have  been  able  to 
discovei  of  the  "  Positions." 


WORDS  AND  THINGS. 


This  antithesis  between  words  and  things  which  con- 
stantly occurs  in  educational  literature,  from  the  sixteenth 
century  onward,  is  not  very  exact.  Sometimes  the  antithesis 
so  expressed  is  really  between  the  material  world  and 
abstract  ideas.  In  this  case  the  study  of  things  which 
afl'ect  the  senses  is  opposed  to  the  study  of  grammar,  logic, 
rhetoric,  etc.  Sometimes  by  words  is  understood  the  ex- 
pression of  ideas  in  different  languages,  and  by  f kings  tlie 
ideas  themselves.  This  is  the  antithesis  of  those  who  de- 
preciate linguistic  study,  and  say  that  it  /s  better  to  acquire 


APPENDIX.  303 


fresli  ideas  than  various  ways  of  expressing  the  same  idea. 
Of  course  it  may  be  shown,  that  linguistic  study  does  more 
for  us  than  merely  giving  us  various  ways  of  expressing 
ideas,  but  I  will  not  here  discuss  the  matter.  Besides  the 
disputants  who  use  one  or  other  of  these  antitheses,  many 
of  those  who  tind  fault  with  the  attention  bestowed  on  wordi 
in  education,  mean  generally  words  learned  by  rote,  and  not 
connected  with  ideas  at  all. 

Several  of  our  greatest  writers  have  declared  in  one  sense 
or  otlier  against "  words."  First,  both  in  time  and  impor- 
tance, we  have  Milton : 

"  The  end  of  all  learning  is  to  repair  the  ruins  of  our 
first  parentfi  by  regaining  to  know  God  aright,  and  out  of 
that  knowledge  to  love  Him,  to  imitate  Him,  to  be  like 
Him,  as  we  may  the  nearest  by  possessing  our  souls  of  true 
virtue,  which  being  united  to  the  heavenly  grace  of  faith, 
makes  up  the  highest  perfection.  But  because  our  under- 
standing can  not  in  this  body  found  itself  but  on  sensible 
things,  nor  arrive  so  clearly  to  the  knowledge  of  God,  and 
things  invisible  as  by  orderly  conning  over  the  visible  and 
inferior  creature,  the  same  method  is  necessarily  to  be  fol- 
lowed in  all  discreet  teaching.  And  seeing  every  nation 
affords  not  experience  and  tradition  enough  for  all  kinds  of 
learning,  therefore  we  are  chiefly  taught  the  language  of 
those  people  who  have  at  any  time  been  most  industrious 
after  wisdom  :  so  that  language  is  but  the  instrument  con- 
veying to  us  things  useful  to  be  known.  And  though  a  lin* 
guist  should  pride  himself  to  have  all  the  tongues  thnt 
Babel  cleft  the  world  into,  yet  if  he  have  not  studied  solid 
tilings  in  them,  as  well  as  the  words  and  lexicons,  he  were 
nothing  so  much  to  be  esteemed  a  learned  man,  as  any  yeo- 
man or  tradesman  completely  wise  in  his  motlier  dialect 
only."* 

Soon  after  we  find  Cowley  complaining  of  the  loss  which 
children  make  of  their  time  at  most  schools,  emj^loying,  01 

*Tnu:ttoHartlib. 


304  APPENDIX. 


'^athcf  casting  away,  six  or  seven  years  in  the  learning  of 
•vordsonly  ;  and  he  designs  a  school  in  which  /^/«^.f  should 
ne  taught  together  with  language.  (^Proposition  for  ihe 
Advancement  of  Experi?nental  Philosophy.^  Botli  Mil- 
ton and  Cowley  wished  that  boys  should  read  such  Latin 
books  as  would  instruct  them  in  husbandry,  etc.,  and  so 
combine  linguistic  knowledge  with  "  real  "  knowledge. 

In  the  fourth  book  of  the  "  Dunciad,"  the  most  consum- 
mate master  of  words  thus  uses  his  power  to  satirize  verbal 
education : — 

Then  thus  since  man  from  beast  by  words  is  known, 
Words  are  man's  province,  words  we  teach  alone. 
♦  *  *  »  • 

To  ask,  to  guess,  to  know,  as  they  commence, 
As  fancy  opens  the  quick  springs  of  sense, 
We  ply  the  memory,  we  load  the  brain, 
Bind  rebel  wit,  and  double  chain  on  chain, 
Confine  the  thought  to  exercise  the  breath, 
And  keep  them  in  the  pale  of  words  till  death. 

(Lines  148  ff.) 
v'owper,  too,  says : — 

And  is  he  well  content  his  son  should  find 

No  nourishment  to  feed  his  growini^  mind 

But  conjugated  verbs,  and  nouns  declined? 

For  such  is  all  the  mental  food  purveyed 

By  public  hackneys  in  the  schooling  trade; 

Who  feed  a  pupil's  intellect  with  store 

Of  syntax  truly,  but  with  little  more; 

Dismiss  their  cares  when  they  dismiss  their  flock; 

Machines  themselves,  and  governed  by  a  clock.  \ 

Perhaps  a  father  blessed  with  any  brains  ' 

Would  deem  it  no  abuse  or  waste  of  pains, 

'F  improve  this  diet,  at  no  great  expense, 

With  sav'ry  truth  and  wholesome  common  sense; 

To  lead  his  son,  for  prospects  of  delight, 

To  some  not  sleep  tho'  philosophic  height, 

Thence  to  exhibit  to  his  wondering  eyes 

Yon  circling  worlds,  their  distance  and  their  size, 

The  moons  of  Jove  and  Saturn's  belted  ball. 

And  the  harmonious  order  of  them  all; 


APPENDIX.  305 


To  show  him  in  an  insect  or  a  flower 

Such  microscopic  proof  of  skill  and  power, 

As,  hid  from  ages  past,  God  now  displays 

To  combat  atheists  with  in  modern  days; 

To  spread  the  earth  before  him,  and  commend, 

With  designation  of  the  finger's  end, 

Its  various  parts  to  his  attentive  note, 

Thus  bringing  home  to  him  the  most  remote  : 

To  teach  his  heart  to  glow  with  generous  flame 

Caught  from  the  deeds  of  men  of  ancient  fame.* 

On  the  other  side  we  have  Dr.  Johnson  : — 
"  The  truth  is,  that  the  knowledge  of  external  nature  and 
the  sciences  which  that  knowledge  requires  or  includes,  are 
not  the  great  or  the  frequent  business  of  the  human  mind. 
Whether  we  provide  for  action  or  for  conversation,  whether 
we  wish  to  be  useful  or  pleasing,  the  first  requisite  is  the 
religious  and  moral  knowledge  of  right  and  wrong :  the 
next  is  an  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  mankind,  and 
with  those  examples  which  may  be  said  ,to  embody  trutl. 
and  prove  by  events  the  reasonableness  of  opinions.  Pru- 
dence and  justice  are  virtues  and  excellences  of  all  times 
and  of  all  places ;  we  are  perpetually  moralists,  but  we  are 
geometricians  only  by  chance.  Our  intercourse  with  in- 
tellect, not  nature,  is  necessary  ;  our  speculations  upon  mat- 
ter are  voluntary  and  at  leisure.  Physiological  learning  is 
of  such  rare  emergence,  that  one  may  know  another  half 
his  life  without  being  able  to  estimate  his  skill  in  hydros- 
tatics or  astronomy  ;  but  his  moral  and  prudential  character 
immediately  appears.  Those  authors,  therefore,  are  to  be 
read  at  schools  that  supply  most  axioms  of  prudence,  most 
principles  of  moral  truth,  and  most  materials  for  conversa- 
tion ;  and  these  purposes  are  best  served  by  poets,  orators, 
and  historians."! 

In  more  recent  times  the  increasing  importance  of  natural 

•Tirocinium, 
t  Life  of  Milton. 

2f; 


306  APPENDIX. 


science  has  drawn  many  of  the  best  intellects  into  its  ser- 
vice Linguistic  and  literary  instruction  now  finds  few  sup- 
porters in  theory,  though  its  friends  haAie  not  yet  made  much 
alteration  in  their  practice.  Our  last  two  School  Commis- 
sions have  recommended  a  compromise  between  the  claims 
o\  lifeiHture  and  natural  science.  Both  reports  state  clearly 
the  importance  of  a  training  in  language  and  literature,  to 
which  our  present  theorists  hardly  seem  to  do  justice.  The 
Public  Schools  Report  says  : — 

"  Grammar  is  the  logic  of  common  speech,  and  there  are 
(ew  educated  men  who  are  not  sensible  of  the  advantages 
:hey  gained,  as  boys,  from  the  steady  practice  of  composi- 
tion and  translation,  and  from  their  introduction  to  ety- 
inology.  The  study  of  literature  is  the  study,  not  indeed  of 
the  physical,  but  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  world  we  live 
in,  and  of  the  thoughts,  lives,  and  characters  of  those  men 
whose  writings  or  whose  memories  succeeding  generations 
fiave  thought  it  worth  while  to  preserve."* 

The  Commissioners  on  Middle  Schools  express  a  similar 
opinion : — 

"•  The  '  human '  subjects  of  instruction,  of  which  the 
soady  of  language  is  the  beginning,  appear  to  have  a  dis- 
tinctly greater  educational  power  than  the  '  material.'  As 
all  civilization  really  takes  its  rise  in  human  intercourse,  so 
the  most  efficient  instrument  of  education  appears  to  be  the 
study  which  most  bears  on  that  intercourse,  the  study  of 
human  speech.  Nothing  appears  to  develop  and  discipline 
the  ^^  ^:0le  man  so  much  as  the  study  which  assists  the  learner 
to  understand  the  thoujjhts,  to  enter  into  the  feelings,  to  ap- 
preciate the  moral  judgments  of  others.  There  is  nothing 
so  opposed  to  true  cultivation,  nothing  so  unreasonable,  as 
excessive  narrowness  of  mind ;  and  nothing  contributes  to 
remove  this  narrowness  so  much  as  that  clear  understanding 
of  language  wJiich  lays  open  the  tlioughts  of  others  to  ready 
appreciation.     Nor  is  equal  clearness  oi  thought  to  be  ob« 

*  Public  Schools  Report,  vol.  i.,  §  8,  p.  z^. 


APPENDIX.  307 


Idined  in  any  other  way.  Clearness  of  thought  is  bound  up 
with  clearness  of  language,  and  the  one  is  impossible  with- 
out the  other.  When  the  study  of  language  can  be  followed 
by  that  of  literature,  not  only  breadth  and  clearness,  but  re- 
Uncment  becomes  attainable.  The  study  of  history  in  the 
full  sense  belongs  to  a  still  later  age  :  for  till  the  learner  is 
old  enough  to  have  some  appreciation  of  politics,  he  is  not 
capable  of  grasping  the  meaning  of  what  he  studies.  Bui 
both  literature  and  history  do  but  carry  on  that  which  the 
study  of  language  has  begun,  the  cultivation  of  all  those 
faculties  by  which  man  has  contact  with  man."* 


AXIOMATIC  TRUTHS  OF  METHODOLOGY. 

1.  The  method  of  nature  is  the  archetype  of  all  niethc/ds 
and  especially  of  the  method  of  learning  languages. 

2.  The  classification  of  the  objects  of  study  should  marl' 
out  to  teacher  and  learner  their  respective  sfiheres  of  ac- 
tion. 

3.  The  ultimate  objects  of  the  study  should  always  ht 
kept  in  view,  that  the  end  be  not  forgotten  in  pursuit  of  the 
means. 

4.  The  means  ought  to  be  consistent  with  the  end. 

5.  Example  and  practice  are  more  effioient  than  precept 
and  theory. 

6.  Only  one  thing  should  be  taught  at  one  time  ;  and  an 
accumulation  of  difficulties  should  be  avoided,  especially  in 
the  beginning  of  the  study. 

7.  Instruction  should  proceed  from  the  known  to  the  un- 
known, from  the  simple  to  the  complex,  from  concrete  to. 
abstract  notions,  from  analysis  to  synthesis. 


"Middle  Schools  Report,  vol.  i.,  c.  i.,  p.  29. 


308  APPENDIX. 


8.  The  mind  should  be  impressed  with  the  idea  before  if 
takes  cognizance  of  the  sign  that  represents  it. 

9.  The  development  of  the  intellectual  powers  is  more 
important  than  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  ;  each  should 
De  made  auxiliary  to  the  other. 

10.  All  the  faculties  should  be  equally  exercised,  and  cx- 
eicised  in  any  way  consistent  with  the  exigencies  of  active 
life, 

11.  The  protracted  exercise  of  the  faculties  is  injurious: 
a  change  of  occupation  renews  the  energy  of  their  action. 

12.  No  exercise  should  be  so  difficult  as  to  discourage  ex- 
ertion, nor  so  easy  as  to  render  it  unnecessary ;  attention  is 
secured  by  making  study  interesting. 

13.  First  impressions  and  early  habits  are  the  most  im- 
portant, because  they  are  the  most  enduring. 

14.  What  the  learner  discovers  by  mental  exertion  is  bet- 
ter known  than  what  .is  told  him. 

15.  Learners  should  not  do  with  their  instructor  what 
they  can  do  by  themselves,  that  they  may  have  time  to  do 
with  him  what  they  can  not  do  by  themselves. 

16.  The  monitorial  principle  multiplies  the  benefits  of 
public  instruction.     By  teaching  we  learn. 

1 7.  The  more  concentrated  is  the  professor's  teaching,  the 
more  comprehensive  and  efficient  his  instruction. 

iS.  In  a  class,  the  time  must  be  so  employed,  that  no 
learner  shall  be  idl^,  and  the  business  so  contrived,  that 
learners  of  different  degrees  of  advancement  shall  derive 
equal  advantage  from  the  instructor. 

19.  Repetition  must  mature  into  a  habit  what  the  learner 
wishes  to  remember. 

20.  Young  persons  should  be  taught  only  what  they  are 
capable  of  clearly  understanding,  and  what  may  be  useful 
to  them  in  after-life* 


♦  From  Marcel  on  Language.  London,  1853.  As  M.  Marcel  shows 
a  thorougli  masterj  of  his  subject,  he  may  be  trusted  as  giving  the 
commonly  received  conciustons. 


APPENDIX.  309 


FROM  "JANUA  LINGUARUM." 

48c.  Of  Journeys  and  Passages. — Let  a  traveler  go  straight* 
way  whither  he  is  going  without  turnings  ;  let  him  not  turn 
or  strav  "^ut  of  the  way  into  by-wayes.  481.  Let  him  not 
leave  the  mghway  for  a  foot-path  ;  unless  it  be  a  beaten 
path  or  a  way  much  used,  or  that  the  guide  or  companion 
know  the  way  .  .  .  483.  A  forked  way  or  carfax  (bivium 
autquadrivium)  is  deceitful  and  uncertain.  .  .  4S6.  Boots  are 
fit  for  one  that  goeth  far  from  home,  or  shoes  of  raw  leather 
because  of  the  mire  and  dirt ;  and  a  broad  hat  or  cover  of 
the  head  because  of  the  sunne,  and  a  cloak  to  keep  from  rain, 
and  a  stafle  to  rely  or  lean  upon,  for  it  is  a  help  and  a  sup- 
port. 487.  There  is  likewise  need  of  provision  to  make  ex- 
penses, and  to  bear  the  charges,  or  at  least  of  letters  of  ex- 
change. 488.  But  of  patience  withall  ;  for  it  happeneth  or 
Cometh  to  pass  sometimes  to  be  all  the  night  abroad  or  in  the 
open  aire.  489.  Wheresoever  or  in  what  place  soever  thou 
be  consider  with  whom  thou  art.  490  For  robbers  and 
thieves  seek  for  a  prey  or  bootie  ;  pirates  a  spoil ;  yea,  which 
is  more,  a  guest  or  stranger  is  not  sure  or  out  of  danger 
from  his  host.  (Lutrones  enim  praedantur  :  piratae  spoliant : 
imo  in  hospitio  non  hospes  ab  hospite  tutus.)  491.  Bags, 
packs,  or  fardles,  wherein  they  carry  their  own  things  or 
baggage  trussed ;  are  a  budget,  a  wallet,  cap  case,  a  pouch, 
a  sachell,  a  male,  a  purse,  a  bag  of  leather.  492.  To  be 
more  ready,  do  not  burden  nor  charge  or  aggravate  thyself 
with  lets.  493.  If  there  be  necessity  to  make  haste,  it's  bet- 
ter to  use  running  horses  or  swift  geldings  or  himting  nags 
than  post-horses.  494.  Being  returned  home  safe  and  sound, 
thine  shall  receive  and  entertain  thee  with  joy  and  glad- 
ness.— {Edition  of  1639,  p.  84.) 


310  APPENDIX. 


LOCKE  ON  POETRY. 

• 

"  If  he  have  a  poetic  vein,  it  is  to  me  the  strangest  thing 
ill  the  world  that  the  father  should  desire  or  sufter  it  to  be 
cherished  or  improved.  Methinks  the  parents  should  labor 
to  have  it  stifled  and  suppressed  as  much  as  may  be  ;  and  I 
know  not  what  reason  a  father  can  have  to  wish  his  son  a 
poet,  who  does  not  desire  to  have  him  bid  defiance  to  all 
other  callings  and  business :  which  is  not  yet  the  worst  of 
the  case  ;  for  if  he  prove  a  successful  rhymer,  and  gets  once 
the  reputation  of  a  wit,  I  desire  it  to  be  considered  what 
company  and  places  he  is  like  to  spend  his  time  in,  nay, 
and  estate  too  ;  for  it  is  very  seldom  seen  that  any  one  dis- 
covers mines  of  gold  or  silver  in  Parnassus.  It  is  a  pleasant 
air,  but  a  barren  soil ;  and  there  are  very  few  instances  of 
those  who  have  added  to  their  patrimony  by  anything  they 
have  reaped  from  thence.  Poetry  and  gaming,  which  usu- 
ally go  together,  are  alike  in  this  too,  that  they  seldom  bring 
any  advantage  but  to  those  who  have  nothing  else  to  live 
on.  Men  of  estates  almost  constantly  go  away  losers  ;  and 
it  is  well  if  they  escape  at  a  cheaper  rate  than  tlieir  whole 
estates,  or  the  greatest  part  of  them.  If,  therefore,  you 
would  not  have  your  son  the  fiddle  to  every  jovial  company, 
without  whom  the  sparks  could  not  relish  their  wine,  nor 
know  how  to  pass  an  afternoon  idly  ;  if  you  would  not  have 
him  waste  his  time  and  estate  to  divert  others,  and  contemn 
the  dirty  acres  left  him  by  his  ancestors,  I  do  not  think  you 
will  much  care  he  should  be  a  poet,  or  that  his  schoolmaa- 
fer  should  enter  him  in  versifying.*' — (§  174O 


AP1»ENDIX.  311 


FROM  THE  "  EVENING   HOUR  OF  A  HERMIT." 

What  man  is,  what  he  needs,  what  elevates  him  and  de- 
grades him,  what  strengthenf  him  and  weakens  him,  such 
is  the  knowledge  needed  both  by  shepherds  of  the  people, 
and  by  the  inmate  of  the  most  lowly  hut. 

Everywhere  humanity  feels  this  want.  Everywhere  it 
struggles  to  satisfy  it  with  labor  and  earnestness.  For  the 
want  of  it  men  live  restless  lives,  and  at  death  they  cry 
aloud  that  they  have  not  fulfilled  the  purposes  of  their  be- 
ing. Their  end  is  not  the  ripening  of  the  perfect  fruits  of 
the  year,  which  in  full  completion  are  laid  away  for  the  re- ' 
pose  of  the  winter.     .     .     . 

The  powers  of  conferring  blessings  on  humanity  are  not 
a  gift  of  art  or  of  accident  They  exist  with  their  funda- 
mental principles  in  the  inmost  nature  of 'all  men.  Their 
development  is  tlie  universal  need  of  humanity. 

Central  point  of  life,  individual  destiny  of  man,  thou  art 
the  book  of  Nature.  In  thee  licth  the  power  and  the  plan 
of  that  wise  teacher;  and  every  school  cducatiort  not  erected 
upon  the  principles  of  human  development  leads  astray. 

The  happy  infant  learns  by  this  road  what  his  mother  is 
to  him  ;  and  thus  grows  within  him  the  actual  sentiment  of 
love  and  gratitude  before  he  can  understand  the  words 
Duty  or  Thanks.  .     .     The  truth  which  rises  from  our 

inmost  being  is  universal  human  truth,  and  would  serve  ad 
a  irutli  for  the  reconciliation  of  those  who  are  quarreling  by 
thousands  over  its  husks. 

Man,  it  is  thyself,  the  inner  consciousness  of  thy  powers, 
which  is  the  object  of  the  education  of  nature. 

The  general  elevation  of  these  inward  powers  of  the 
human  mind  to  a  pure  human  wisdom  is  the  universal  pur- 
pose of  the  education  even  of  the  lowest  man.  The  prac- 
tice, application,  and  use  of  these  powers  and  this  wisdom 


312  APPENDIX. 


under  special  circumstances  and  conditions  of  humanity,  is 
education  for  a  professional  or  social  condition.  These 
must  always  be  kept  subordinate  to  the  general  object  of 
human  training.  .     . 

Nature  devdops  all  the  human  faculties  by  practice,  and 
their  growth  depends  upon  their  exercise.     .     .     . 

Men,  fathers,  force  not  the  faculties  of  your  children  into 
paths  too  distant  before  they  have  attained  strength  by  ex- 
ercise ;  and  avoid  harshness  and  over-fatigue.     .     .     . 

(You  leave  the  right  order)  when,  before  making  them 
sensitive  to  truth  and  wisdom  by  the  real  knowledge  of  actual 
objects,  you  engage  them  in  the  thousand-fold  confusions  of 
word-learning  and  opinions ;  and  lay  the  foundation  of 
their  mental  character  and  of  the  first  determination  of  their 
powers,  not  with  truth  and  actual  obligations,  but  with 
sounds  and  speech  and  words.     .     .     . 

God  is  the  nearest  resource  for  humanity.     .     .     . 

To  suffer  pain  and  death  and  the  grave,  without  God,  thy 
nature,  educated  to'mildness,  goodness,  and  feeling,  has  no 
power.     .     .     . 

Believe  in  thyself,  O  man ;  believe  in  the  inward  intelli- 
gence of  thine  own  soul ;  thus  shalt  thou  believe  in  God 
and  immortality. 

Faith  in  the  fatherhood  of  God  is  faith  in  immortality.    . 

Faith  in  my  own  father,  who  is  a  child  of  God,  is  a  train- 
ing for  my  faith  in  God. 

Faith  in  God  sanctifies  and  strengthens  the  bond  between 
parents  and  children,  between  subjects  and  princes.  Un- 
belief dissolves  all  bonds,  destroys  all  blessing. 

Freedom  rests  on  justice,  justice  on  love  ;  therefore  even 
freedom  rests  on  love. 

The  true  disposition  of  the  child  is  the  right  source  of 
freedom  resting  on  justice,  as  the  true  disposition  of  the 
father  is  the  source  of  all  power  of  government  which  is 
exalted  enough  to  do  justice  and  to  love  freedom.  And  the 
source  of  justice  and  of  all  blessing  for  the  world,  the 


APPENDIX.  313 


source  of  love  and  brotherly  feeling  amonjj  men,  rests  on 
the  great  thought  of  religion  that  we  arc  ciiilch'cn  of  God, 
and  that  belief  of  this  truth  is  the  sure  ground  of  all 
blessing  for  the  world.     .     .     . 

That  men  have  lost  the  disposition  of  children  toward 
G'J'J  is  the  greatest  misfortune  of  the  world,  inasmuch  as  it 
renders  impossible  all  God's  fatherly  education  of  themf 
and  the  restoring  of  this  lost  childlike  disposition  is  the  re- 
demption of  the  lost  children  of  God  upon  earth. 

The  Man  of  God  who,  with  suffering  and  death,  restored 
to  mankind  the  universally  lost  feeling  of  the  child's  dispo- 
sition toward  God,  is  the  Redeemer  of  the  World.  He  is 
the  great  sacrificed  Priest  of  the  Lord.  He  is  the  Mediator 
between  God  and  God-forgettin;:::  mankind.  His  teaching 
is  pure  justice,  educating  people's  philosophy  ;  it  is  the  rev- 
elation of  God"  to  His  lost  race  of  children. 


FROM  RAMSAUER. 


As  many  hundred  times  in  the  course  of  the  year  as  for- 
eigners visited  the  Pestalozzian  Institution,  so  many  hun 
dred  times  did  Pestalozzi  allow  himself  in  his  enthusiasm 
to  be  deceived  by  them.  On  the  arrival  of  every  fresh  visi- 
tor, he  would  go  to  the  teachers  in  whom  ^he  placed  most 
confidence,  and  say  to  them,  "This  is  an  important  person- 
age, who  wants  to  become  acquainted  with  all  we  are  doing. 
Pake  your  best  pupils  and  their  analysis-books  (copy-books 
in  which  the  lessons  were  written  out),  and  show  him  what 
we  can  do,  and  what  we  wish  to  do."  Hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  times  there  came  to  the  Institution  silly,  curious, 
and  often  totally  uneducated  persons,  who  came  because  it 
was  the  fashion  On  tlieir  account  we  usually  hud  to  in- 
terrupt tlie  class  instruction,  and  hold  a  kind  of  examina- 
27 


314  APPENDIX. 

Hon.  In  1 8 14,  the  aged  Prince  Esterhazy  came.  Pesta- 
lozzi  ran  all  over  the  house,  calling  out,  "  Ramsauer,  Ram- 
sauer,  where  are  you !  Come  directly,  with  your  best 
pupils,  to  the  Maison  Rouge  (the  hotel  at  which  the  Prince 
had  alighted).  He  is  a  person  of  the  highest  importance 
and  of  infinite  wealth  ;  he  has  thousands  of  serfs  in  Hun- 
gary and  Austria.  He  is  certain  to  build  schools  and  set 
free  his  serfs,  if  he  is  made  to  take  an  interest  in  the  mat- 
ter." I  took  about  fifteen  pupils  to  tlie  hotel.  Pestalozzi 
presented  me  to  the  Prince  with  these  words,  "  This  is  the 
teacher  of  these  scholars,  a  young  man  who,  fifteen  years 
ago,  migrated  with  other  poor  children  from  the  Canton  of 
Appenzell  and  came  to  me.  He  received  an  elementary 
education  according  to  his  aptitudes,  without  let  or  hin- 
drance. Now  he  is  a  teacher  himself  Thus  you  see  that 
there  is  as  much  ability  in  the  poor  as  in  the  richest,  fre- 
quently more,  but  it  is  seldom  developed,  and  even  then  not 
methodically  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  improvement 
of  the  popular  schools  is  so  highly  important.  But  he  will 
show  you  everything  we  do  better  than  I  could.  I  will, 
therefore,  leave  him  with  you  for  the  present."  I  now  ex- 
amined the  pupils,  taught,  explained,  and  bawled,  in  my 
zeal,  till  I  was  quite  hoarse,  believing  that  the  Prince  was 
thoroughly  convinced  about  everything.  Ai  the  end  of  an 
hour  Pestalozzi  returned.  The  Prince  expressed  his  pleas- 
ure at  what  he  had  seen.  He  then  took  leave,  and  Pesta 
lozzi,  standing  on  ihe  top  of  the  stairs  of  the  hotel,  said, 
*'He  is  quite  convinced,  quite  convinced,  and  will  certainly 
establish  schools  on  his  Hungarian  estates."  When  we  had 
descended  the  stairs,  Pestalozzi  said,  "  Whatever  ails  my 
arm  !  It  is  so  painful !  Why,  see,  it  is  quite  swollen ;  I 
can 't  bend  it !  "  And  in  truth  his  wide  sleeve  was  now  too 
small  for  his  arm.  I  looked  at  the  key  of  the  house-door 
of  the  Maison  Rouge,  and  said  to  Pestalozzi,  "Look  here! 
you  struck  yourself  against  this  key  when  we  were  going 
to  the  Prince  an  hour  ago  1 "     On  closer  observation,  it  ap- 


APPKNDIX.  315 


peared  that  Pestalozzi  had  actually  bent  the  key  by  hitting 
his  elbow  against  it.  In  the  first  hour  afterward  he  had  not 
noticed  the  pain  for  the  excess  of  his  zeal  and  his  joy.* 


HELPS,  STEPHEN,  ETC. 

Mr.  Helps,  in  his  admirable  essay  on  reading,  in  "  Friendi 
in  Council,"  makes  some  observations  which,  altlioiigh  they 
refer  to  the  reading  of  grown  persons,  may  be  applied  to 
early  education  as  well.  He  would  have  every  one  "  take 
something  for  the  main  stem  and  trunk  of  their  culture, 
whence  branches  might  grow  out  in  all  directions,  seeking 
light  and  air  for  the  parent  tree,  which  it  is  hoped  might  end 
in  becoming  something  useful  and  ornamental,  and  which, 
at  any  rate,  all  along  will  have  had  life  and  growth  in  it." 

He  concludes  his  remarks  on  the  connection  of  knowl- 
edges as  follows : — 

"  In  short,  all  things  are  so  connected  together  that  a  man 
who  knows  one  subject  well  can  not,  if  he  would,  have 
failed  to  have  acquired  much  besides  ;  and  that  man  will  not 
be  likely  to  keep  fewer  pearls  who  has  a  string  to  put  them 
on,  than  he  who  picks  them  up  and  throws  them  together 
without  method.  This,  however,  is  a  very  poor  metaphor 
to  represent  the  matter  ;  for  what  I  would  aim  at  producing, 
not  merely  holds  together  what  is  gained,  but  has  vitality 
in  itself — is  always  growing.  And  anybody  will  confirm  this 
who,  in  his  own  case,  has  had  any  branch  of  study  or  hu- 
man aflairs  to  work  upon  ;  for  he  must  have  observed  how 
all  he  meets  seems  to  work  in  with,  and  assimilate  Jtself  to, 
his  own  peculiar  subject.  During  his  lonely  walks,  or  in 
society,  or  in  action,  it  seems  as  if  this  one  pursuit  were 
something  almost  independent  of  himself,  always  on  the 
watch,  and  claiming  its  share  in  whatever  is  going  on." 

*  For  an  account  of  Ramsauer,  see  Barnard's  Pestalozzi. 


3IO  APl'ENDIX. 


Sir  James  Stephen  also  made  some  excellent  remarks  to 
the  same  effect  in  his  lecture  on  "  Desultory  and  Systematic 
Reading,"  delivered  at  Exeter  Hall : — 

"  By  sound — that  is  solid — learning"  (he  said),  "  I  mean 
such  knowledge  as  relates  to  useful  and  substantial  things, 
and  as  in  itself  is  compact,  colierent,  all  of  a  piece — having 
its  several  parts  fitted  into  each  other,  and  mutually  sus- 
taining and  illustrating  one  another." 

We  must  with  a  firm  hand  draw  our  own  meridian  line 
in  the  world  of  learning :  — 

"For  learning  is  a  world,  not  a  chaos.  The  various  ac- 
cumulations of  human  knowledge  are  not  so  many  de- 
'.ached  masses.  They  are  all  connected  parts  of  one  great 
system  of  truth,  and  though  that  system  be  infinitely  too 
comprehensive  for  any  one  of  us  to  compass,  yet  each  com- 
ponent member  of  it  bears  to  every  other  component  member 
relations  which  each  of  us  may,  in  his  own  department  of 
study,  search  out  and  discover  for  himself  A  man  is 
really  and  soundly  learned  in  exact  proportion  to  the  num- 
ber and  to  the  importance  of  those  relations  which  he  has 
thus  carefully  examined  and  accurately  understood." 

In  discussing  the  advantage  of  learning  one  subject 
thoroughly,  we  must  not  overlook  the  valuable  testimony  of 
Professor  De  Morgan  : — 

"  When  the  student  has  occupied  his  time  in  learning  a 
moderate  portion  of  many  different  things,  what  has  he  ac- 
quired— extensive  knowledge  or  useful  habits.?  Even  if  he 
can  be  said  to  have  varied  learning,  it  will  not  long  be  true 
of  him,  for  nothing  flies  so  quickly  as  half-digested  knowl- 
edge ;  and  when  this  is  gone,  there  remains  but  a  slender 
portion  of  useful  power.  A  small  quantity  of  learning 
quickly  evaporates  from  a  mind  which  never  held  any 
learning  except  in  small  quantities  ;  and  the  intellecfual  phi- 
losopher can  perhaps  explain  the  following  phenomenon  — 
that  men  who  have  given  deep  attention  to  one  or  more  lil> 
eral  studies,  can  learn  to  the  end  of  their  lives,  and  are  able 


APPENDIX.  317 


t<»  retain  and  apply  very  small  quantities  of  other  kinds  of 
knowledge ;  while  those  who  have  never  learnt  much  of 
any  one  thing,  seldom  acquire  new  knowledge  after  they 
attain  to  years  of  maturity,  and  frequently  lose  the  greatei 
part  of  that  which  they  once  possessed." 

1  am  indehted  for  this  quofation  to  Mr.  Payne's  pamphlet, 
"  The  Curriculum  of  Modern  Education,  etc.,"  1866.  Ti)is 
pamphlet  contains  a  most  interesting  discussion  of  the  ques- 
tions— Many  subjects  or  few  ?  and,  Shall  language  or 
science  have  precedence?  In  considering  these  matters, 
Mr.  Payne  has  an  advantage  possessed  at  present  by  very 
few  Englishmen — knowledge  derived  both  from  teaching, 
and  from  studying  the  theory  of  teaching.  Vide  his  evi- 
dence before  Middle  Schools  Commission. 


MANGNALL'S  QUESTIONS. 

The  long-continued  success  of  this  book  is  a  melancholy 
proof  of  the  stupidity  which  is  at  work,  vigorously  destroy- 
ing the  intelligence  of  youthful  minds.  When  I  referred 
to  "  Mangnall,"  I  did  so  from  what  I  remember  of  my  own 
earlv  lessons.  On  getting  the  book  to  see  if  it  was  as  bad 
as  I  thought,  I  am  almost  driven  to  the  supposition  that  it 
was  written  as  a  satire  on  the  instruction  generally  given  to 
children,  and  that  it  has  imposed  on  English  teachers  as  the 
£pistolcE  Obscuroruvi  Virorum  did  on  some  of  the  Roman 
clergy.     The  edition  now  in  use  begins  as  follows : — 

^^■N.ime  some  of  the  most  Ancient  Kingdoms. — Chaldoa, 
Babylonia,  Assyria,  China  in  Asia,  and  Egypt  in  Africa. 
Nimrod,  the  grandson  of  Ham,  is  supposed  to  have  founded 
the  first  of  these  n.  c.  2221,  as  well  as  the  famous  cities  of 
Babylon  and  Nineveh  :  his  kingdom  Being  within  the  fertile 
plains  of  Chaldea,  Chalonitis,  and  Assyria,  was  of  small 


3l8  APPENDIX. 

extent,  compared  with  the  vast  empires  that  afterwaid  arose 
from  it,  but  included  several  large  cities.  In  the  district 
called  Babylonia,  were  the  cities  of  Babylon,  Barsita,  Idi- 
carra,  and  Vologsia,  etc." 

This  is  the  opening  of  an  historical  sketch  which  in  twelve 
pages  brings  matters  down  to  A.  D.  1S49.  The  information 
given  about  Greece  is  of  this  kind  : — 

"  Whai  progress  did  the  Greeks  make  in  the  Arts? — 
From  the  time  of  Cyrus  to  that  of  Alexander,  they  were 
gradually  improving:  warriors,  statesmen,  philosophers, 
poets,  historians,  painters,  architects,  and  sculptors  form  a 
glorious  phalanx  in  this  golden  age  of  literature ;  and  the 
history  of  Greece  at  this  period  is  equally  important  and 
instructive. 

'"''Name  the  chief  Grecian  Poets. — Homer,  Hesiod,  Ar- 
chilochus,  TyrtiEus,  Alcaeus,  Sappho,  Simonides,  yEschylus, 
Euripides,  Sophocles,  Anacreon,  Pindar,  and  Menandcr. 

''''Name  the  Chief  Philosophers. — Thales,  Solon,  Pytha- 
goras, Heraclitus,  Anaxagoras,  Socrates,  Empedocles,  Plato, 
Aristotle,  and  Zeno. 

^'■Name  the  chief  Lawgivers. — Cecrops,  of  Athens ;  Cad- 
mus, of  Thebes ;  Caranus,  of  Macedon ;  Lycurgus,  of 
Sparta  ;  Draco  and  Solon,  of  Athens. 

'•'■Namethe  chief  Grecian  Painters. — Zcuxis,  Parrhasius, 
Tirnanthes,  Apelles,  Polygnotus,  Protogencs,  and  Aristides. 

'-''Name  the  chief  Historians. — Herodotus,  Thucydides, 
and  Xenophon. 

'"''Name  tht  chief  Grecian  Architects. — Ctesiphon,  Phid- 
ias, Myron,  Scopas,  Lysippus,  and  Polycletus  " 

A  "  sketch  of  the  most  remarkable  events  from  the 
Christian  era  to  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,"  occu- 
pies seven  pages.  The  abstract  of  British  biography  is  very 
complete,  and  takes  eighty-two  pages.  To  prevent  the  mem- 
ory from  getting  assisted  by  association  of  ideas,  as  it  might 
if  chronological  orde'r  were  adopted,  the  worthies  are 
^iven  alphabetically.     Though  the  list  is  tolerably  complete, 


APPENDIX.  319 


the  author  adheres  pretty  closely  to  her  principle,  that  the 
only  tliinji;  which  we  really  ought  to  know  ahout  great  men 
is  their  names.      Take  a  couple  as  they  stand  : — 

"  Gilbert  Burnet,  Bishop  of  Salisbuiy,  born  in  Edinburgh- 
hhire,  1643;  died  in  1715-  He  is  memorable  as  an  historical 
and  political  writer. 

"Richard  Ben tley,  born  at  Wakefield,  1662;  died  1742 
His  literary  character  as  a  critic  and  divine  is  known 
throughout  Europe." 

In  this  last  case,  the  reader  will  observe  that  children  are 
taught  but  little,  and  that  little  wrong.  Another  striking 
feature  about  these  biographical  sketches  is,  that  theii  length 
does  not  vary  according  to  the  importance  of  the  person 
treated  of.  We  find,  e.  g.,  sixteen  and  a  half  lines  (space 
enough  in  such  a  work  as  this  for  the  literary  and  political 
history  of  an  empire  or  two)  devoted  to  Jeremiah  Horrox, 
"  who  continues  to  be  regarded  with  admiration." 

The  sketch  of  general  modern  biograpl]y  takes  seventy- 
three  pages  ;  planetary  system,  two  pages ;  list  of  constella- 
tions, three  pages ;  abstract  of  heathen  mythology,  eight 
oages,  etc.  I  could  not  give  all  the  subjects  treated  of  with- 
out transcribing  a  g-'eater  portion  of  the  work  than  courtesy 
or  copyright  would  allow. 


DR.  WIESE. 


As  far  as  literature  is  concerned,  the  Reformers  have 
been  as  triumphant  lately  in  education  as  in  politics.  In- 
ileed,  it  seems  considered  almost  axiomatic  that  he  who 
writes  on  a  liberal  education  must  himself  be  a  Liberal.* 

*  There  arc  a  few  noteworthy  exceptions  to  this  rule,  as  Professor 
Conington  and  Mr.  Church,  who  are  both  brave  enough  to  defend 
Latin  verses.     See  Contemporary  Review^  January  and  May,  1868. 


320  APPENDIX. 


Some  of  these  writers  hardly  justify  Mr.  Mill's  remaik,  thai 
all  stupid  people  are  Tories,  and  some  others,  in  tilting  at 
the  present  state  of  things,  endeavor  as  it  were  to  make 
up  by  velocity  for  want  of  weight.  But  there  are  other  mal- 
contents who  are  not  rhetoricians,  and  who  are  among  the 
intellectual  leaders  of  our  time.  We  can  not  afford  tc 
neglect  protests  from  men  so  eminent,  and  observing  from 
sjuch  different  standing-points,  as  Mill,  Spencer,  Tyndall, 
Huxley,  Seeley,  Matthew  Arnold.  Some  of  these  gentle^ 
men  are  not  merely  dissatisfied  with  English  education, 
but  think  they  have  found  in  Germany  a  model  worthy  of 
our  imitation.  When  the}'  descend  in  this  manner  from 
the  ideal  to  the  actual,  we  Philistines*  feel  more  at  home 
with  them.  We  like  to  see  in  a  concrete  form  what  the 
Reformers  would  introduce,  and  when  we  are  thus  con- 
vinced that  the  change  would  be  for  the  better,  we  no 
longer  feel  any  misgivings  in  adopting  it.  But  in  all  such 
cases  we  must  be  very  careful  that  the  superiority  of  the 
thing  to  be  introduced  is  clearly  demonstrated ;  and  in 
listening  to  the  admirers  of  foreign  systems  we  sometimes 
wish  for  an  opportunity  of  following  out  the  maxim  Audi 
alteram  partem.  Perhaps  we  remember  that  in  our  nursery 
experiences,  the  good  little  boy  next  door  was  frequently 
referred  to  as  presenting  a  striking  contrast  with  our  own 
unworthiness,  while  perhaps  in  the  adjacent  nursery  we  were 
figuring  in  the  same  capacity  for  the  humiliation  of  the  good 
little  boy  himself.  After  listening  to  the  praises  of  the  good 
little  German  boy  who  is  such  a  prodigy  of  learning,  and,  as 
Mr.  Mathias  has  shown,  is  required  to  pass  a  harder  examina- 
tion on  leaving  school   than   our  pollmen  are  when  they 

*  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  understood  as  ranking  myself  among  the 
enemies  of  light  or  Get'st  or  ideas,  still  less  among  the  enemies  of 
the  "children  of  light"  who  are  so  well  represented  in  this  countrv 
by  Mr.  Arnold.  I  mean  merely  that  I  have  no  pretensions  to  be  of 
their  number,  and  that  I  can  never  aspire  beyond  being  admitted  ai 
«  proselyte  of  the  Gate. 


APPBNDIX.  321 


leave  the  University,  I  take  a  malicious  pleasure  in  being 
present  (so  to  speak)  at  a  lecture  delivered  for  the  benefit 
of  that  young  gentleman,  in  which  his  failings  are  freely 
touched  upon  in  connection  with  the  English  boy's  corre- 
sponding virtues 

I  refer  to  Dr.  Wicse's  "  Letters  on  English  Education." 
(English  by  W.  D.  Arnold,  1854.)  Dr.  Wiese  is,  I  believe, 
a  very  good  authority,  and  he  is  referred  to  with  much  respect 
in  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold's  Report.  It  is  very  instructive  to 
compare  his  remarks  on  the  comparative  merits  of  English 
and  German  education  with  what  our  own  authorities  have 
said  on  the  subject.  For  the  benefit  of  those  of  my  readers 
who  have  not  ready  access  to  the  book,  I  give  the  follow- 
ing extracts : 

"  The  differences  that  exist  between  the  objects  and  at- 
tainments of  the  systems  of  instruction  in  use  in  the  English 
public  schools  and  our  gymnasia  may  be  summed  up  as  ex- 
hibiting the  contrast  between  skill  and  science  (^Konnen 
und  W^wew),  practice  and  knowledge,  't'he  knowledge  of 
the  English  scholar  is  limited  to  a  narrower  circle  tlian  that 
of  the  German ;  but  he  will  generally  be  found  to  move  in 
it  with  greater  accuracy  ;  his  knowledge  lies  in  a  narrower 
compass,  but  generally  serves  more  as  a  practical  power  to 
him."— (p.  59.) 

"  I  am  persuaded  that  (hey  are  right  who  maintain  that 
what  the  English  schools  and  universities  have  neglected 
and  do  neglect,  is  amply  compensated  by  that  which  they 
have  done  and  are  still  doing." — (p.  6.) 

"  I  think  1  have  generally  observed,  that  the  English  pub- 
lic schools,  without  exception — with  all  their  undeniable 
shortcomings — yet  do  know  how  to  guard  and  to  strengthen 
in  the  rising  generation  the  germ  of  future  manhood ; 
whereas  we  are  not  in  a  position  to  repel  the  reproaches  so 
frequently  heaped  of  late  years  on  our  German  schools, 
'that  they  have  forgotten  their  business  of  education,  and 
train  up  no  men  for  the  Commonwealth  ;'  though  in  mak* 


322  APPENDIX. 


ing  this  reproach  there  is  much  so  utterly  overlooked,  as 
to  make  it,  in  the  mouths  of  most  people,  an  unjust  one. 
The  result  of  my  observations,  to  state  it  briefly^  is  this  :  in 
knowledge,  our  higher  schools  are  far  in  advance  of  the 
English ;  but  their  education  is  more  effective,  because  it 
imparts  a  better  preparation  for  life." — (p.  7.) 

"  The  general  impression  in  England  is,  that  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge  is  but  the  second  object  of  education,  and  one 
for  which  opportunity  is  continually  offering  through  life  ; 
but  that  to  enable  a  young  man  to  seize  upon  this  opportu- 
nityj  and  to  avail  himself  of  it,  the  first  object  of  education, 
viz.,  formation  of  character,  must  be  obtained  early ;  for 
that  deficiency  in  this  respect  is  not  so  easily  supplied  in 
after-life.  We  Germans  should  reply  that  it  is  just  in  the 
power  of  forming  character,  that  the  excellence  of  well- 
regulated  scientific  instruction  consists ;  but  must  we  not 
confess  that  in  numberless  cases  this  result  has  not  showed 
itself  in  our  young  men  ?  Even  in  Germany  most  teachers 
maintain  that  the  main  object  of  instruction  is  education ; 
but  does  not  their  confidence,  that  this  object  is  best  effected 
by  its  own  means,  too  soon  degenerate  into  carelessness  ?" — 

:p-  50.) 

"England  has  the  incalculable  advantage  of  possessing  a 
definite  mode  of  training,  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation,  and  in  all  essential  points  unchanged  for  cen- 
turies ;  and,  above  all,  the  advantages  of  a  fixed  central  point 
[Nationality  and  Religion],  toward  which  everything  else 
radiates  :  we  are  involved  in  uncertainty,  and  go  on  looking 
and  looking  for  something  that  may  remain  steadfast:  we 
allow  things  only  valuable  as  means,  to  assume  the  impor- 
tance of  ends,  and  toward  these  all  the  powers  we  possess 
are  enthusiastically  directed.  The  consequence  is,  alas  I 
that  sooner  or  later,  by  the  very  necessity  of  things,  there 
ensues  a  reactionary  movement  in  exactly  the  opposite  di- 
rection."— (p.  79.) 

"  I  have  often  been  struck  with  the  fact  thJit  the  Engl-sb 


APPENDIX.  323 


arc  bcgining  to  fear  that  the  heroic  feeling  of  noble  manli- 
ness is  gradually  dying  out  of  the  nation,  and  therefore  arc 
rather  shy  of  making  any  great  alterations  in  the  old  sys- 
tem of  education  at  the  public  schools  and  universities  in 
order  to  meet  the  wants  of  modern  times  ;  or  of  making  ex- 
periments of  new  systems  and  subjects  of  stud\',  feeling  as 
they  do  how  much  they  owe  to  the  old  system  for  the  rous' 
ing  and  fostering  of  that  vital  energy.  They  find  that  the 
times  most  favorable  to  the  formation  of  strong  individual 
character,  were  those  in  which  the  means  of  training  were 
simple,  and  (owing  to  their  small  compass)  capable  per- 
haps of  exercising  a  more  certain  influence.  Therefore 
they  are  in  general  far  from  considering  the  variety  of  our 
German  plan  of  study  a  thing  to  be  envied." — (pp.  55,  56.) 
"  The  ideality  of  the  German  mind,  and  its  leaning  toward 
the  abstract,  makes  it  feel  a  respect  for  knowledge  for  its 
own  sake,  such  as  hardly  exists  in  England  ;  it  possesses 
for  us  an  intrinsic  value.  To  take  a  popular  illustration,  the 
knowledge  that  the  earth  is  round,  is  considered  by  us  val- 
uable on  its  own  account ;  the  Englishman  receives  this  re- 
sult of  scientific  research  with  equal  pleasure ;  but  chiefly 
because  he  associates  it  with  the  thought  of  being  able  to 
sail  round  it;  he  asks,  'How  docs  it  ufiect  me?'  Con- 
siderations of  profit  are  doubtless  closely  allied  with  this 
mode  of  thought ;  but  it  would  be  extremely  unjust,  were 
we  on  this  account  to  reproach  the  education  of  the  higher 
schools  in  England  with  utilitarianism  ;  it  is  a  cause  of 
complaint  in  many  quarters,  that  they  are  not  utilitarian 
enough.  The  state  of  the  Case  is  pretty  much  as  follows ; 
in  England  they  look  to  the  final  object  of  education,  and 
find  this  to  consist  in  capability  {ox  action;  even  as  our  own 
Wilhelm  von  Humboldt  once  said,  when  he  was  Minister, 
that  there  was  nothing  which  the  State  ought  so  much  to 
encourage  amongst  its  youth,  as  that  which  had  a  tendency 
to  promote  energy  of  action.  Under  this  belief  the  En- 
glish  reject  everything  from   their  system  of   instructiou 


324  APPENDIX. 


which  may  tend  to  oppress,  to  ovcrexcite,  or  to  dissipate 
the  mental  power  of  the  pupil.  Their  means  and  methods 
of  instruction  would  appear  to  the  teacher  of  a  German 
gymnasium  surprisingly  simple,  not  to  say  unscientific  ;  and 
so  in  many  cjvses  they  certainly  are.  The  English  boy, 
even  when  his  school  training  is  over,  would  seem  generally 
to  know  little  enough  by  the  side  of  a  German  ;  and  in  certain 
subjects,  such  as  geography,  an  English  scholar  is  not  to  be 
compared  with  a  German  who  has  '  been  taught  on  rational 
principles,'  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  physics  and  other 
branches  of  knowledge.  With  us  it  is  almost  a  standing 
maxim,  that  the  object  of  the  gymnasium  is  to  awaken  and 
develop  the  scientific  mind.  An  Englishman  could  not 
admit  this,  for  he  is  unable  to  divest  himself  of  the  idea, 
that  not  to  know,  but  to  do,  is  the  object  of  man's  life  ;  the 
vigorous  independence  of  each  individual  man  in  his  own 
life  and  calling." — (pp.  63  flf.) 

"  In  the  Gymnasia,  Herder  warned  them  against  the  luxury 
of  knowledge :  and  how  frequently  we  hear  the  reproach, 
that  their  lessons  are  such  as  become  a  university  rather 
than  a  school ;  and  that  consequently  the  boys  are  conceited, 
premature  critics  and  phrasemongers.  In  England  they 
care  only  for  facts :  they  reject  all  critical  controversy,  and 
desire  by  the  contemplation  of  facts  to  sharpen  the  faculty 
of  observation.  We,  on  the  otherhand,  too  often  allow  re- 
flection and  generalities  that  cost  but  little  labor,  to  stifle 
that  spirit  of  research  which  fixes  itself  upon  its  object  and 
works  toward  it  with  scrupulous  impartiality.  How  many 
a  professor  has  been  vexed  at  "finding  schoolboys  bring  to 
college  so  many  cut  and  dried  thoughts  and  views,  and  so 
little  well-grounded  knowledge  of  simple  matters  of  fact! 
Godfrey  Hermann  complained,  'At  school  they  read  au- 
ihors  critically,  and  we  must  begin  at  the  university  to  teach 
them  the  elements  of  grammar.'  I  do  not  know  whether 
pride  of  knowledge  is  so  common  now  in  Germany,  as  it 
was  when  Litchenberg  spoke  of  it  as  'a  country  in  which 


APPENDIX.  325 


cluldrcn  learned  to  turn  up  their  noses  before  they  learned 
to  blow  them,'  but  this  I  do  know,  that  all  pushing  of  the 
powers  of  thought  brings  its  own  punishment  afterward. 
If  young  men  are  made  acquainted  before  their  time,  and 
without  pains  on  their  part,  with  those  results  of  knowledge 
whi  ;h  are  fitted  for  a  more  advanced  period  of  life,  they  are 
very  likely  to  use  up  the  stock  of  enthusiasm,  which  we  all 
«?ced  and  have  received  as  a  kind  of  dower  to  carry  with  us 
through  life,  and  which  we  can  best  increase  by  overcom- 
mg  difficulties  for  ourselves." — (pp.  66,  67.) 

"  Thus  Dr.  Arnold  says  that  the  eflbrt  a  boy  makes  is  a 
hundred  times  more  valuable  to  him  than  the  knowledge 
acquired  as  the  result  of  the  effort ;  as  generally  in  education 
the  //ow  is  more  important  than  the  What.  The  conse- 
quence of  this  boing  so  often  forgotten  in  German  schools, 
of  their  not  sufficiently  guarding  against  the  encyclopaedic 
tendency  of  their  system  of  study  is,  that  a  young  man  loses 
not  only  the  natural  simplicity  and  coherence  of  his  idea,  but 
yet  more  his  capacity  to  observe,  because  he  has  been  over- 
crammed  ;  his  brain  becomes  confused  and  his  ear  deafened  ; 
and  after  all  he  is  obliged  to  bestow  his  labor  rather  on  ac- 
count of  the  extent  than  the  depth  of  the  knowledge  to  be 
attained.  In  English  schools  they  have  hitherto  avoided  this 
danger  by  confining  themselves  to  very  little  ;  students  there 
do  not  learn  nearly  so  mucli  as  with  us,  but  they  learn  one 
thing  better,  and  that  is  the  art  of  learning.  They  acquire 
a  greater  power  of  judging  for  themselves  ;  they  know  how 
to  take  a  correct  starting-point  for  other  studies ;  whereas 
our  young  men  too  often  only  know  just  what  they  have 
learnt,  and  never  cease  to  be  dependent  on  their  school- 
teaching." — (pp.  68,  69.) 

"  It  can  not  be  denied  that  the  maxim,  '  non  scholce  scd 
vitce^  is  better  understood  in  England  than  in  Germany. 
All  that  a  school  can  teach,  beyond  imparting  a  certain 
small  stock  of  knowledge,  is  the  way  to  /earn.  It  is  a 
lamentable  misconception  of  that  most  important  maxim,  to 


326  APPENDIX. 


suppose  that  a  liberal  education  can  have  any  other  end  in 
view,  than  to  impart  and  exercise  power  to  be  used  in  after- 
life."—(p.  76.) 

"  I  am  persuaded  that  we  must  soon  make  up  our  minds 
once  more  to  simplify  our  course  of  study,  and  the  regula- 
tions for  the  last  school  examination  {^Arbiturienten- 
cxaTnen)." — (p.  770 

"  Were  it  possible  to  combine  the  German  scientific 
method  with  the  English  power  of  forming  the  character, 
we  should  attain  an  idea  of  education  not  yet  realized  in  Chris- 
tian times,  only  once  realized  perhaps  in  any  time — in  the  best 
days  of  Greece;  but  which  is  just  the  more  difficult  to  at- 
tain now,  in  proportion  as  the  spirit  of  Christianity  is  more 
exalted  than  anything  which  antiquity  could  propose  to  itself 
as  the  end  of  education." — (p.  209.) 


3^7 


froe'bel  and  the  kindergarten.* 

FaiEDRlCII    WiLIlELM    AuGUST     FkOEBEL     (17S2-1852), 

philosopher,  phihinthropist,  and  educational  refoniier,  was 
born  at  Oberweissbach,  a  village  of  the  Thuringian  Forest, 
on  the  2ist  April,  1783.  He  completed  his  seventieth  year, 
and  died  at  Marienlhal,  near  Bad-Liebenstein,  on  the  21st 
June,  1852.  Like  Comenius,  with  whom  he  had  much  in 
common,  he  was  neglected  in  his  youth,  and  the  remem- 
brance of  his  own  early  suflerings  made  him  in  after  life  the 
more  eager  in  promoting  the  happiness  of  children.  His 
mother  he  lost  in  his  infancy,  and  his  father,  the  pastor  of 
Oberweissbach  and  the  surrounding  district,  attended  to  his 
parish  but  not  to  his  family.  Friedrich  soon  had  a  step- 
mother, and  neglect  was  succeeded  by  stepmotherly  atten- 
tion ;  but  a  maternal  uncle  took  pity  on  him,  and  for  some 
years  gave  him  a  home  a  few  miles  off  at  Stadt-Ilm.  Here 
he  went  to  the  village  school,  but  like  many  thoughtful  boys 
he  passed  for  a  dunce.  Throughout  life  he  was  always  seek- 
ing for  hidden  connections  and  an  underlying  unity  in  all 
things.  Nothing  of  the  kind  was  to  be  perceived  in  the 
piecemeal  studies  of  the  school,  and  Froebel's  mind,  busy 
as  it  was  fur  itself,  would  not  work  for  the  masters.  His 
half-brother  was  therefore  thought  more  worthy  of  a  uni- 
versity education,  and  Friedrich  was  apprenticed  for  two 
years  to  a  forester  (1797-1799)-  Left  to  himself  in  the 
Thuringian  Forest,  Froebel  now  began  to  study  nature,  and 
without  scientific  instruction  he  obtained  a  profound  insight 
into  the  uniformity  and  essential  unity  of  nature's  laws. 
Years  afterwards  the  celebrated  Jahn  (the  *'  Father  Jahn  " 

*  Reprinted    from   the  Encyclopeedia  Briiaiinica,  with  the  kind 
permission  of  Messrs.  Adam  &  Charles  Black. 


328  FROEBEL    AND    THE    KINDERGARTEN. 

of  the  German  gNmnasts)  told  a  Berlin  student  of  a  queer 
fellow  he  had  met,  who  made  out  all  sorts  of  wonderful 
things  from  stones  and  cobwebs.  This  "  queer'fellow  "  was 
Froebel  ;  and  the  habit  of  making  out  general  truths  from 
the  observation  of  nature,  especially  of  plants  and  trees? 
dated  from  his  solitary  rambles  in  tlie  Forest.  No  training 
could  have  been  better  suited  to  strengthen  his  inborn  tend- 
ency to  mysticism  ;  and  when  he  left  the  Forest  at  the  early 
age  of  seventeen,  he  seems  to  have  been  possessed  by  the 
main  ideas  which  influenced  him  all  his  life.  The  concep- 
tion which  in  him  dominated  all  others  was  the  unity  of 
nature;  and  he  longed  to  study  natural  sciences  that  he 
might  find  in  them  various  applications  of  nature's  universal 
laws.  With  great  difficulty  he  got  leave  to  join  his  elder 
brother  at  the  university  of  Jena,  and  there  for  a  year  he 
went  from  lecture-room  to  lecture- room  hoping  to  grasp 
that  connection  of  the  sciences  which  had  for  him  far  more 
attraction  than  any  particular  science  in  itself  But  Froe- 
bel's  allowance  of  money  was  very  small,  and  his  skill  in 
the  management  of  money  was  never  great,  so  his  university 
career  ended  in  an  imprisonment  of  nine  weeks  for  a  debt 
of  thirty  shillings.  He  then  returned  Jiome  with  very  poor 
prospects,  but  much  more  intent  on  what  he  calls  the  course 
of  "self-completion"  (^Vervollkonimnung  vicines  selbst) 
than  on  "  getting  on"  in  a  worldly  point  of  view.  He  was 
soon  sent  to  learn  farming,  but  was  recalled  in  consequence 
of  the  failing  health  of  his  father.  In  1S02  the  father  died, 
and  Froebel,  now  twenty  years  old,  had  to  shift  for  himself 
It  was  some  time  before  he  found  his  true  vocation,  and  for 
the  next  three-and-a-half  years  we  find  him  at  work  now  in 
one  part  of  Germany,  now  in  another, — sometimes  land- 
surveying,  sometimes  acting  as  accountant,  sometimes  as 
private  secretary. 

But  in  all  this  his  "  outer  life  was  far  removed  from  his 


HE    FINDS    HIS    VOCATION.  329 

inner  life,"  and  in  spite  of  his  outward  circumstances  he 
became  more  and  more  conscious  that  a  great  task  lay  before 
him  for  the  good  of  humanity.  This  consciousness  was 
fatal  to  "  settling  down."  "  To  thee  may  Fate  soon  give  a 
settled  hearth  and  a  loving  wife"  (thus  he  wrote  in  a  friend's 
album  in  1805);  "me  let  it  keep  wandering  without  rest, 
and  allow  only  time  to  learn  aright  my  true  relation  to  the 
world  and  to  my  own  inner  being.  Do  thou  give  bread  to 
men  ;  be  it  my  effort  to  give  men  to  themselves."  (Karl 
Schmiilt's  Geschichlc  der  Padagogik,  3rd  edition  by  Lange, 
vol.  iv,  p.  277.) 

As  yet  the  nature  of  the  task  was  not  clear  to  him,  and  it 
seemed  determined  by  accident.  While  studying  architect- 
ure in  Frankfort  on-the-Main,  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
director  of  a  model  school  who  had  caught  some  of  the  en- 
thusiasm of  Pestalozzi.  This  friend  saw  that  Froebel's  true 
field  was  education,  and  he  persuaded  him  to  give  up  archi- 
tectiue  and  take  a  post  in  the  model  school.  In  this  school 
Froebel  worked  for  two  years  with  remarkable  success ;  but 
he  then  retired  and  undertook  the  education  of  three  lads  of 
one  family.  In  this  he  could  not  satisfy  himself,  and  he  ob- 
tained the  parents' consent  to  his  taking  the  boys  to  Yverdon, 
near  Neuchatel,  and  there  forming  with  them  a  part  of  the 
celebrated  institution  of  Pestalozzi.  Thus  from  1807  till 
1809  Froebel  was  drinking  in  Pestalozzianism  at  the  fountain 
head,  and  qualifying  himself  to  carry  on  the  work  which 
Pestalozzi  had  begun.  For  the  science  of  education  had  to 
deduce  from  Pestalozzi's  experience  principles  which  Pes- 
talozzi himself  could  not  deduce;  and  '"Froebel,  the  pupil 
of  Pestalozzi,  and  a  genius  like  his  master,  completed  the 
reformer's  system  ;  taking  the  results  at  which  Pestalozzi 
had  arrived  through  the  necessities  of  his  position,  Froebel 
developed  the  ideas  involved  in  them,  not  by  further  expe- 
rience, but  by  deduction  from  the  nature  of  man,  and  thus 


jjO  FROEBEL    AND    THE    KINDERGARTEN. 

he  attained  to  the  conception  of  true  human  development 
and  to  the  requirements  of  true  education"  (Schmidt's  Ges- 
hichte  der  Padagogik). 

Holding  that  man  and  nature,  inasmuch  as  they  proceed 
from  the  same  Source,  must  be  governed  by  the  same  laws, 
Froebel  longed  for  more  knowledge  of  natural  science. 
Even  Pestalozzi  seemed  to  him  not  to  "  honor  science  in  her 
divinity."  He  therefore  determined  to  continue  the  inii- 
ver^ity  course  yvhich  had  been  so  rudely  interrupted  eleven 
years  before,  and  in  1811  he  began  studying  at  Gottingen, 
whence  he  proceeded  to  Berlin.  But  again  his  studies  were 
interrupted,  this  time  by  the  King  of  Prussia's  celebrated 
call  "  to  my  people."  Though  not  a  Prussian,  Froebel  was 
heart  and  soul  a  German.  He  therefore  responded  to  the 
call,  enlisted  in  Liitzow's  corps,  and  went  through  the  cam- 
paign of  1S13.  But  his  military  ardor  did  not  take  his 
mind  off  education.  "Everywhere,"  he  writes,  "as  far  as 
the  fatigues  I  underwent  allowed,  I  carried  in  my  thoughts 
my  future  calling  as  educator ;  yes,  even  in  the  few  engage- 
ments in  which  I  had  to  take  part.  Even  in  these  I  could 
gather  experience  for  the  task  I  proposed  to  myself" 
Froebel's  soldiering  showed  him  the  value  of  discipline  and 
united  action,  how  the  individual  belongs  not  to  himself  but 
to  the  whole  body,  and  how  the  whole  body  supports  the 
individual. 

Froebel  was  rewarded  for  his  patriotism  by  the  friendship 
of  two  men  whose  names  will  always  be  associated  with 
his,  Langethal  and  Middendorff.  These  young  men,  ten 
years  younger  than  Froebel,  became  attached  to  him  in  the 
field,  and  were  ever  afterwards  his  devoted  followers,  sacri- 
ficing all  their  prospects  in  life  for  the  sake  of  carrying  out 
his  ideas. 

At  the  peace  of  Fontainebleau  (signed  in  May,  1814) 
Froebel  returned  to  Berlin,  and  became  curator  of  the  Mu- 


SERMONS    IN    STONES.  3^1 

seiim  of  Mineralogy  under  Professor  Weiss.  In  accepting 
this  appointment  from  the  Government  he  seemed  to  turn 
aside  from  his  work  as  educator  ;  but  if  not  teaching  he 
was  learning.  The  unity  of  nature  and  human  nature 
seemed  more  and  more  to  reveal  itself  to  him.  Of  the 
days  past  in  the  museum  he  afterwards  wrote  :  "  Here  was 
I  at  the  central  point  of  my  life  and  strife,  where  inner 
working  and  law,  where  life,  nature,  and  mathematics  were 
united  in  clear  solid  form,  where  symbolic  being  lay  open 
to  the  inner  eye."  Again  he  says :  "  The  stones  in  my 
hand  and  under  my  eye  became  speaking  forms.  The  world 
of  crystals  declared  to  me  the  life  and  laws  of  life  of  man, 
and  in  still  but  real  and  sensible  speech  taught  the  t^^ie  life 
of  humanity."  More  and  more  the  tliought  possessed  him 
that  the  one  thing  needful  for  man  was  unity  of  develop- 
ment, perfect  evolution  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  his 
being,  such  evolution  as  science  discovers  in  the  other  or- 
ganisms of  nature.  He  at  first  intended  to.become  a  teacher 
of  natural  science,  but  before  long  wider  views  dawned 
upon  him.  Langethal  and  MiddendorfTwerc  in  Berlin,  en- 
gaged in  tuition.  Froebel  gave  them  regular  instruction  in 
his  theory,  and  at  length,  counting  on  their  support,  he  re- 
solved to  set  about  realizing  his  own  idea  of  ''  the  new  edu- 
cation." This  was  in  1816.  Three  years  before  one  of  his 
brothers,  a  clergyman,  had  died  of  fever  caught  from  the 
French  prisoners.  His  widow  was  still  living  in  the  par- 
sonage at  Griesheim,  a  village  on  the  Ilm.  Froebel  gave 
up  his  post  in  Berlin,  and  set  out  for  Griesheim  on  foot, 
spending  his  very  last  groschen  on  the  way  for  bread. 
Here  he  undertook  the  education  of  his  orphan  niece  and 
nephews,  and  also  of  two  more  nephews  sent  him  by  an- 
other brother.  With  these  he  opened  a  school,  and  wrote 
to  Middendorft'and  Langethal  to  come  and  help  in  the  ex- 
periment    Middendorff  came  at  once,  Langethal  a  year  or 


332     FROEBEL  AND  THE  KINDERGARTEN. 

two  later,  when  the  school  had  been  moved  to  Keilhau,  an- 
other of  the  Thuringian  villages,  which  became  the  Mecca 
of  the  new  faith.  In  Keilhau,  Froebel,  Langethal,  Midden- 
dorff,  and  Barop,  a  relation  of  Middendorff's,  all  married 
and  formed  an  educational  community  Such  zeal  could 
not  be  fruitless,  and  the  school  gradually  increased,  though 
for  many  years  its  teachers,  with  Froebel  at  their  head,  were 
in  the  greatest  straits  for  money,  and  at  times  even  for  food. 
Karl  Froebel,  who  was  brought  up  in  the  school,  tells  how, 
on  one  occasion,  he  and  the  other  children  were  sent  to 
ramble  in  the  woods  till  some  of  the  seed-corn  provided  for 
the  coming  year  had  been  turned  into  bread  for  them.  Be- 
sides 4hese  difficulties  the  community  suffered  from  the 
panic  and  reaction  after  the  murder  of  Kotzebuc  (1819), 
and  were  persecuted  as  a  nest  of  demagogues.  But  "  the 
New  Education"  was  sufficiently  successful  to  attract  notice 
from  all  quarters ;  and  when  he  had  been  ten  years  at 
Keilhau  (1826)  Froebel  published  his  great  work,  The  Ed- 
jication  of  Man.  Four  years  later  he  determined  to  start 
other  institutions  in  connection  with  the  parent  institution  at 
Keilhau,  and  being  offered  by  a  private  friend  the  use  of  a 
castle  on  the  Wartensee,  in  the  canton  of  Lucerne,  he  left 
Kcilhaii  under  the  direction  of  Barop,  and  with  Langethal 
made  a  settlement  in  Switzerland.  The  ground,  however, 
was  very  ill  chosen.  The  Catholic  clergy  resisted  what 
they  consideretl  as  a  Protestant  invasion,  and  the  experiment 
on  the  Wartensee  and  at  Willisau  in  the  same  canton,  to 
which  the  institution  was  moved  in  1833,  never  had  a  fair 
chance.  It  was  in  vain  that  Middcndortr  at  Froebel's  call 
left  his  wife  and  family  at  Keilhau,  and  labored  for  four 
years  in  Switzerland  without  once  seeing  them.  The  Swiss 
institution  never  flourished.  But  the  Swiss  Government 
wished  to  turn  to  account  the  presence  of  the  great  educator, 
so  young  teachers  were  sent  to  Froebel  for  instruction,  and 


THE    CAMPAIGN     IN    SWITZERLAND.  ^33 


finally  he  moved  to  Burgdorf  (a  Bernese  town  of  some  im- 
jjortaiicc,  and  famous  from  Pistalozzi's  labors  there  thirty 
years  cailit-r)  to  undertake  the  establishment  of  a  public  or- 
I  hannge,  and  also  to  superiniciul  a  course  of  teaching  for 
schoolmasters.  The  elementary  teachers  of  the  canton  were 
to  sjjend  tluce  months  every  alternate  year  at  Burgdorf,  and 
there  compare  experiences,  and  learn  of  distinguished  men 
such  as  Froebel  and  Bitzius.  In  his  conferences  with  these 
teachers  Froebel  found  that  the  schools  suftcrcd  from  the 
state  of  the  raw  material  brought  into  them.  Till  the 
school  age  was  reached  the  children  were  entirely  neglected. 
Frocbel's  conception  of  harmonious  development  naturallv 
led  him  to  attach  much  importance  to  the  earliest  years,  and 
his  great  work  on  VVic  Education  of  Mafi,  published  as 
early  as  1826,  deals  chiefly  with  the  child  up  to  the  age  of 
seven.  At  Burgdorf  his  thoughts  were  much  occupied  with 
the  proper  treatment  of  young  children,  and  in  scheming 
for  them  a  graduated  course  of  exercises^  modeled  on  the 
games  in  which  he  observed  them  to  be  most  interested. 
In  his  eagerness  to  carry  out  his  new  plans  he  grew  impa- 
tient of  official  restraints,  and  partly  from  this  reason,  partly 
on  account  of  his  wife's  ill  health,  he  left  Burgdorf  without 
even  actually  becoming  "  Waisenvater"  (father  of  the  or- 
phans.)* After  a  sojoinn  of  some  months  in  Berlin,  where 
he  was  detained  by  family  affairs,  but  used  the  opportunities 
thus  afforded  of  examining  the  recently  founded  infant 
schools,  Froebel  returned  to  Keilhau,  and  soon  afterwards 
opened  the  first  Kindergarten,  or  "  Garden  of  Children," 
in  the  neighboring,  village  of  Blankenburg  (1837,  a.  d.) 
Not  only  the  thing  but  the  name  seemed  to  Froebel  a  happy 
inspiration,  and  it  has  now  become  inseparably  connected 

♦This  office  was  first  filled  by  Langethal  and  afterwards  by 
Ferdinand  Froebel.  I  learned  this  at  Burgdorf  from  Ilerr  Pfarrer 
Heuer,  whose  father  had  himself  been  Waisenvater. 


334    FROEBEL  AND  THE  KINDERGARTEN. 

with  his  own.  Perhaps  we  can  hardly  understand  the  pleas- 
ure he  took  in  it  unless  we  know  its  predecessor,  Kleinkin- 
derbeschaftigungsanstalt. 

Firmly  convinced  of  the  importance  of  the  Kindergarten 
for  the  whole  human  race,  Froebel  described  his  system  in  a 
weekly  paper  (his  Sonntagsblatf)^  which  appeared  from 
the  middle  of  1837  till  1840.  He  also  lectured  in  great 
towns  ;  and  he  gave  a  regular  course  of  instruction  to  young 
teachers  at  Blankenburg. 

But  although  the  principles  of  the  Kindergarten  were 
gradually  making  their  way,  the  first  Kindergarten  was 
failing  for  want  of  funds.  It  had  to  be  given  up,  and  Froe- 
bel, now  a  widower  (he  had  lost  his  wife  in  1839),  carried 
on  his  course  for  teachers  first  at  Keilhau,  and  from  1848, 
for  the  last  four  years  of  his  life,  at  or  near  Liebenstein,  in 
the  Thuringian  Forest,  and  in  the  duchy  of  Meiningen.  It 
is  in  these  last  years  thai  the  man  Froebel  will  be  best 
known  to  posterity ;  fot  in  1049  he  attracted  within  the  cir- 
cle of  his  influence  a  woman  of  great  intellectual  power, 
the  Baroness  von  Marenholtz-Bulow,  who  has  given  us  in 
her  Recollections  of  Friedrich  Ffoebel  the  only  life-like 
portrait  we  possess.  In  these  records  of  personal  inter- 
course we  see  the  truth  of  Deinhardt's  words:  "  The  living 
perception  of  universal  and  ideal  truth  which  his  talk  re- 
vealed to  us,  his  unbounded  enthusiasm  for  the  education 
and  happiness  of  the  human  race,  his  willingness  to  offer 
up  everything  he  possessed  for  the  sake  of  his  idea,  the 
stream  of  thoughts  which  flowed  from  his  enthusiasm  for 
the  ideal  as  from  an  inexhaustible  fouHtaiii,  all  these  made 
Froebel  a  wonderful  appearance  in  the  world,  by  whom  no 
unprejudiced  spectator  could  fail  to  be  attracted  and  ele- 
vated." 

These  seemed  likely  to  be  Froebel's  most  peaceful  days. 
He  married  again,  and  having  now  devoted  himself  to  the 


FROEBEL  S  LAST  YEARS.  335 

training  of  women  as  educators,  he  spent  his  time  in  in- 
structing his  class  of  young  female  teachers.  But  trouble 
came  upon  him  from  a  quarter  whence  he  least  expected 
it.  In  tlie  great  year  of  revolutions,  1S48,  Froehel  had 
hoped  to  turn  to  account  the  general  eagerness  for  im- 
provement, and  Middendorff  had  presented  an  address  on 
Kindergartens  to  tiie  German  Parliament.  Besides  this  a 
nephew  of  Froebel's  published  books  which  were  supposed 
to  teach  socialism.  True  the  uncle  and  nephew  dittered 
so  widely  that  "the  New  Froebelians"  were  the  enemies 
of  the  "Old."  But  the  distinction  was  overlooked,  and 
Friedrich  and  Karl  Froebel  were  regarded  as  the  united 
advocates  of  "  some  new  thing."  In  the  reaction  which 
soon  set  in,  Froebel  found  himself  suspected  of  socialism 
and  irreligion  ;  and  in  185  £  the  Culins-niinister,  Raumer, 
issued  an  edict  forbidding  tlie  establishment  of  schools 
"  after  Friedrich  and  Karl  Froebel's  principles  "in  Prussia. 
It  was  in  vain  that  Froebel  proved  that  his  principles  dif- 
fered fundamentally  from  his  nephew's.  It  was  in  vain 
that  a  congress  of  schoolmasters,  presided  over  by  the 
celebrated  Diesterweg,  protested  against  the  calumnious 
decree.  The  Minister  turned  a  deaf  ear,  and  the  decree 
remained  in  force  ten  years  after  the  death  of  Froebel 
(J.  c,  till  1862).  But  the  edict  was  a  heavy  blow  to  the 
old  man  who  looked  to  the  Government  of  the  "  Cultus- 
staat"  Prussia  for  support,  and  was  met  with  denunciation. 
Of  the  justice  of  the  charge  brought  by  the  Minister 
against  Froebel  the  reader  may  judge  from  the  account  of 
his  principles  given  below. 

Whether  from  the  worry  of  this  new  controversy,  or  from 
■whatever  cause,  Froebel  did  not  long  survive  the  decree. 
His  seventieth  birthday  was  celebrated  with  great  rejoicings 
in  May,  1852,  but  he  died   in   the   following  month,  and 


22^  FROEBEL    AND    THE    KINDERGARTEN. 

lies  buried   at   Schweina,  a  village    near  his   last   abode, 
Marienthal. 


'*A11  education  not  founded  on  religion  is  unproductive." — 
This  conviction  of  Froebel's  followed  naturally  from  his 
conception  of  the  unity  of  all  things,  a  unity  due  to.  the 
original  Unity  from  whom  all  proceed  and  in  whom  all 
"  live,  move,  and  have  their  being."  "  In  Allem  wirkt  und 
schafTt  ^?V/  Leben,  Weil  das  LebenAll'  ein  einz'ger  Gott 
gegeben."  "All  has  come  forth  from  the  Divine,  from 
God,  and  is  through  God  alone  conditioned.  To  this  it  is 
that  all  things  owe  their  existence,  to  the  Divine  working 
in  them.  The  Divine  element  that  works  in  each  thing 
is  the  true  idea  (^das  Wesen)  of  the  thing."  "  The  destiny 
and  calling  of  all  things  is  to  develop  their  true  idea,  and 
in  so  doing  to  reveal  God  in  outward  and  through  passing 
forms  " 

As  man  and  nature  have  ot>e  origin  they  must  be  sub- 
ject to  the  same  laws.  Hence  Froebel  did  what  Comenius 
had  done  two  centuries  before  him,  he  looked  to  the  course 
of  nature  for  the  principles  of  human  education.  This  he 
declares  to  be  his  fundamental  belief: — "  In  tlie  creation, 
in  nature  and  the  order  of  the  material  world,  and  in  the 
progress  of  mankind,  God  has  given  us  the  true  type 
{Urbild)  of  education." 

As  the  cultivator  creates  nothing  in  the  trees  and  plants, 
so  the  educator  creates  nothing  in  the  children, — he  merely 
superintends  the  development  of  inborn  faculties.  So  far 
Froebel  agrees  with  Pestalozzi ;  but  in  one  respect  he  went 
beyond  him,  and  has  thus  become,  according  to  Michclet, 
the  greatest  of  educational  reformers.  Pestalozzi  said  that 
the  faculties  were  developed  by  exercise.  Froebel  added 
that  the  function  of  education  was  to  develop  the  faculties 
by  arousing  voluntary  activity.     Action  proceeding  from 


FROEBELISM.  337 


inner  impulse  (^Selbstthatigkeif)  was  the  one  thing  need- 
ful. And  here  Fioebel  as  usual  refers  to  God.  "  God's 
every  thought  is  a  work,  a  deed."  As  God  is  the  Creator, 
so  must  man  be  a  creator  also.  "  He  who  will  early  learn 
to  recognize  the  Creator  must  early  exercise  his  own  power 
of  action  with  the  consciousness  that  he  is  bringing  about 
what  is  good;  for  the  doing  good  is  the  link  between  the 
creature  and  the  Creator,  and  the  conscious  doing  of  it  the 
conscious  connection,  the  true  living  union  of  the  man  with 
God,  of  the  individual  man  as  of  the  human  race,  and  is 
therefore  at  once  tiie  starling  point  and  the  eternal  aim  of 
all  education."  Ajjain  he  says  :  "  The  starting  point  of  all 
that  appears,  of  all  that  exists,  and  therefore  of  all  intel- 
lectual conception,  is  act,  action.  From  the  act,  from  action, 
must  therefore  start  true  human  education,  the  developing 
education  of  the  man  ;  in  action,  in  acting,  it  must  be  rooted 
and  must  spring  up.  Living,  acting,  conceiving, — 

these  must  form  a  triple  chord  within  every  child  of  man, 
though  the  sound  now  of  this  string,  now  of  that,  may 
preponderate,  and  then  again  of  two  together." 

The  prominence  which  Froebel  gave  to  action,  his  doc- 
trine that  man  is  primarily  a  doer,  and  even  a  creator, 
and  that  he  learns  only  through  "self-activity,"  may  pro- 
duce great  changes  in  educational  methods  generally,  and 
not  simply  in  the  treatment  of  children  too  young  for 
schooling.  But  it  was  to  the  first  stage  of  life  that  Froebel 
paid  the  greatest  attention,  and  it  is  over  this  stage  that 
his  influence  is  gradually  extending.  Froebel  held  with 
Rousseau  that  each  age  has  a  completeness  of  its  own, 
and  that  the  perfection  of  the  later  stage  can  be  attained 
only  through,  the  j)erfection  of  the  earlier.  If  the  infant 
is  what  he  should  be  as  an  infant,  and  the  child  as  a 
child,  he  will  become  what  he  should  be  as  a  boy,  just  as 
naturally   as  new  shoots   spring   from   the   healthy   plant. 


22^  FROEBEL  AND  THE  KINDERGARtEW. 

Every  stage,  then,  must  be  cared  for  and  tended  in  such 
a  way  that  it  may  attain  its  own  perfection.  Impressed 
with  the  immense  importance  of  the  first  stage,  Froebel, 
like  Pestalozzi,  devoted  himself  to  the  instruction  of 
mothers.  But  he  would  not,  like  Pestalozzi,  leave  the 
chiklren  entirely  in  the  mother's  hands.  Pestalozzi  held 
that  the  child  belonged  to  the  family  ;  Fichte,  on  the  other 
hand,  claimed  it  for  society  and  the  state.  Froebel,  whose 
mind,  like  that  of  our  own  theologian,  Maurice,  delighted 
in  harmonizing  apparent  contradictions,  and  who  taught 
that  "  all  progress  lay  through  opposites  to  their  reconcili- 
ation," maintained  that  the  child  belonged  both  to  the  fam- 
ily and  to  society ;  and  he  would  therefore  have  children 
spend  some  hours  of  the  day  in  a  common  life  and  in  well- 
organized  common  employments.  These  assemblies  of 
children  he  would  not  call  schools,  for  the  children  in  them 
ought  not  to  be  old  enough  for  schooling.  So  he  invented 
the  name  Kindergarten^  garden  of  children,  and  called  the 
superintendents  children-gardeners.  He  laid  great  stress  on 
every  child  cultivating  its  own  plot  of  ground,  but  this  was 
not  his  reason  for  the  choice  of  the  name.  It  was  rather 
that  he  thought  of  these  institutions  as  inclosures  in  which 
young  human  plants  are  nurtured.  In  the  Kindergarten 
the  children's  employment  should  be  play.  But  any  occu- 
pation in  which  children  delight  is  play  to  them  ;  and  Froe- 
bel invented  a  series  of  emjiloyments,  which,  while  they  are 
in  this  sense  play  to  the  children,  have  nevertheless,  as  seen 
from  the  adult  point  of  view,  a  distinct  educational  object. 
This  object,  as  Froebel  himself  describes  it,  is  "  to  give  the 
children  employment  in  agreement  with  their  whole  nature, 
to  strengthen  their  bodies,  to  exercise  their,  senses,  to  en- 
gage their  awakening  mind,  and  through  their  senses  to  bring 
them  acquainted  with  nature  and  their  fellow-creatures; 
it  is  especially  to  guide  aright  the  heart  and  the  affections, 


FROEBEL    LITERATURE.  339 


and  to  lead  them  to  the  original  ground  of  all  life,  to  unity 

with  themselves." 

At  the  end  of  the  first  quarter  of  a  century  since  Frobel'a 
•leafh,  the  spread  of  his  ideas,  or  at  least  of  his  methods,  seems 
rapidly  extending.  Prophets  are  slowly  recognized  in  theii 
own  country,  and  although  he  is  so  thoroughly  German  in  his 
mode  of  thought  and  exposition  that,  as  Dcinhaidt  says,  no 
other  nation  could  have  produced  such  a  man,  the  Germans 
as  yet  are  not  so  ready  to  learn  from  Froebel  as  from  the 
Swiss  Pestalozzi.  In  Austria  the  Kindergarten  has  made 
more  way  than  in  Prussia,  and  it  seems  to  prosper  in  Amer- 
ica. But  Froebel's  influence  is  not  limited  to  the  Kinder- 
garten. His  conception  of  education  cannot  but  affect  the 
tiioughts  and  ultimately  the  practice  of  all  teachers  who 
will  be  at  the  pains  to  understand  it. 

Literature. — Froebel's  own  works  are: — 1.  Menschen- 
erziehung  (there  is  a  French  translation  by  the  'Baronne 
de    Crombrugghe)  ;     2.     Padagogik    d.    Kindergartens: 

3.  Kleinere  Schriften^  herausgegeben  von  Wichard  Lange  : 

4.  Mutter-u.  Koselieder.  We  have  a  lengthy  but  unsatis- 
factory life  of  Froebel  in  '•'■  Friedrich  Froebel"  von  A.  B. 
Hanschmann.  An  unpretentious  but  useful  little  book  is 
F.  Froebel,,  a  Biographical  Sketch,  by  Matilda  H.  Kriege, 
New  York  (Steiger).  A  very  good  account  of  Froebel's 
life  and  thoughts  is  given  in  Karl  Schmidt's  Geschichte  d. 
Padagogik,  vol.  iv.  ;  also  in  Adalbert  Weber's  Geschichte 
d.  Volksschulpad.  u:  d.  Klcinkindcrerzichung  (Weber 
carefully  gives  authorities).  The  article  "  Froebel "  in  K,  A. 
Scmid's  Fncyklopadie  is  by  Deinhardt.  Frau  von  Maren- 
noltz-Bulow  has  published  her  Erinncrungen  an  F.  Froebel 
(a  book  which  has  been  translated  by  Mrs.  Horace  Mann. 
This  lady,  one  of  Froebel's  chief  interpreters,  has  ex- 
pounded his  principles  in  Das  Kind  u.  scin  Wesen  and 
Die  Arbeit  u.  die  neue  Frziehung^  translated  by  Miss 


340     FROEBEL  AND  THE  KINDERGARTEN. 


Christie  as  Child  Nature  aiul  Handvjork  and  Headvjork 
(Sonnenschein).  In  this  country  Miss  E.  Shirrefl'  has  pub- 
lished Principles  of  FroebeVs  System^  and  a  short  sketch 
of  Froebel's  life.  The  late  Joseph  Payne  advocated  Froe- 
belism  in  a  pamphlet,  Proebel  and  the  Kindergarten  Sys- 
tem; also  in  the  book  published  since  his  death,  yl  \^isit  to 
Germa7i  Schools.  In  the  United  States,  Miss  E.  P.  Pea- 
body,  who  has  taken  an  active  part  in  the  spread  of  Froe- 
belism,  has  written  Moral  Culture  of  Infancy  (New 
York).  W.  N.  Hailman  treats  of  Froebel  in  his  Lectures 
and  his  Kindergarten  Culture  (Cincinnati).  A.  Koliier's 
Praxis  is  the  best  known  German  work  on  the  Kindergar- 
ten (it  is  translated  as  Kindergarten  Education^  New 
York)  ;  and  T.  F.  Jacobs'  Manuel  Pratique  des  Jardins 
d' Efifants  in  French.  A  farther  account  of  Kindergarten 
literature  will  be  found  below. 


KINDERGARTEN 

A  German  word,  meaning  "garden  of  children,"  is  the 
name  given  by  Friedrich  Froebel  to  a  kind  of  "play-school" 
invented  by  him  for  furthering  the  physical,  moral,  and  in- 
tellectual growth  of  children  between  the  ages  of  three  and 
seven.  Froebel's  observation  of  the  development  of  organ- 
isms and  his  fondness  for  analogies  drawn  from  trees  and 
plants  made  him  attach  especial  importance  to  our  earliest 
years,  years  in  which,  as  he  said,  lies  the  tap-root  of  much 
of  the  thought  and  feeling  of  after  life.  Although  the  anal- 
ogies of  nature  had  constantly  been  referred  to  before  Froe- 
bel's days  (especially  by  the  Greatest  of  Teachers,  e.  f., 
'•First  the  blade,  then  the  ear,  then  the  full  corn  in  tiie 
ear"),  and  Bacon,  speaking  of  education,  had  said  that  the 


CHILD    NATURE.  34I 


gardener  bestows  most  care  on  the  young  plants,  the  Renas- 
cence left  tlie  imparling  theory  of  education  so  firmly  fixed 
on  the  mind  of  Europe  that  for  two  hundred  years  the  de- 
veloping theory  could  hardly  get  a  hearing,  and  little  was 
done  to  reduce  it  to  practice  before  the  attempt  of  Pesta- 
lozzi.  Pestalozzi  and  other  great  thinkers  (notably  Come- 
nius,  who  attaclied  much  importance  to  the  first  years  of 
life)  looked  to  the  mother  as  the  sole  educator.  But  in  case 
of  the  poor  the  mother  might  not  have  time  to  attend  to 
her  children*  so  towards  the  end  of  the  last  century  Pesta- 
lozzi planned  and  Oberlin  formed  day-asylums  for  young 
children,  the  benefit  of  which  was  intended  no  less  for  the 
mother  than  the  child.  Schools  of  this  kind  took  in  the 
Netherlands  the  name  of  "  play  school,"  and  in  Enj^land, 
where  they  have  especially  thriven,  of  "  infant  schools." 
But  Frocbel's  idea  of  the  "Kindergarten"  differed  essen- 
tially from  that  of  the  infant  schools.  He  maintained  that 
there  was  something  to  do  for  young  children  which  even 
the  ideal  mother  in  the  ideal  family  could  not  do.  The 
child  required  to  be  prepared  for  society  by  being  earlv  as- 
sociated with  its  equals  ;  and.  young  children  thus  brought 
together  might  have  their  employments,  especially  their 
chief  employments,  play,  so  organized  for  them  as  to  draw 
out  their  capacities  of  feeling  and  thinking,  and  even  of  in- 
venting and  creating. 

According  to  the  development  theory,  all  education  must 
be  based  on  study  of  the  nature  to  be  developed.  Froebels 
study  of  the  nature  of  children  showed  him  that  their  great 
characteristic  was  restlessness.  This  was,  first,  restlessness 
of  body,  delight  in  mere  motion  of  the  limbs  ;  and,  secondly, 
restlessness  of  mind,  a  constant  curiosity  about  whatever 
came  within  the  range  of  the  senses,  and  especially  a  desire 
to  examine  with  the  hand  every  unknown  object  within 
reach.     Children's  fondness  for  using  their  hands  was  spe- 


342  FROEBEL    AND    THE     KINDERGARTEN. 

cially  noted  by  Froebel,  and  he  found  tliat  they  delighted, 
not  merely  in  exaiiiining  by  touch,  but  also  in  altering  what- 
ever they  could  alter,  and  further  that  they  endeavored  to 
imitate  known  forms,  whether  by  drawing  or  by  modeling 
in  putty  or  clay.  Besides  remarking  in  them  these  various 
Activities,  he  saw  that  children  were  sociable  and  needeil 
the  sympathy  of  companions.  There  was,  too,  in  them  a 
growing  moral  nature,  passions,  affections,  and  conscience, 
which  needed  to  be  controlled,  responded  to,  cultivated. 
Both  the  restraints  and  the  opportunities  incident  to  a  well- 
organized  community  would  be  beneficial  to  their  moral  na- 
ture, and  prove  a  cure  for  selfishness. 

Froebel  held  that  the  essence  of  all  education  was  to  be 
found  in  rightly  directed  but  spontaneous  action.  So  the 
children  must  be  employed  ;  and  at  that  age  their  most  nat- 
ural employment  is  play,  especially,  as  Wordsworth  has 
pointed  out,  games  in  which  they  imitate  and  "con  the 
parts'*  they  themselves  will  have  to  fill  in  after  years.  Froe- 
bel agreed  with  Montaigne  that  the  games  of  children  were 
"  their  most  serious  occupations,"  and  with  Locke  that  "  all 
the  plays  and  diversions  of  children  should  be  directed  to- 
wards good  and  useful  habits,  or  else  they  will  introduce  ill 
ones"  {^Thoughts  coficcrning-  Education^  §  130).  So  he 
invented  a  course  of  occupations,  most  of  which  are  social 
games.  Many  of  the  games  are  connected  with  the  *'  gifts," 
as  he  called  the  series  of  simple  playthings  provided  for  the 
cliildren,  the  first  being  the  ball,  "  the  type  of  unity."  The 
"gifts"  are  chiefly  not  mere  playthings,  but  materials  which 
the  children  work  up  in  their  own  wa)',  thus  gaining  scope 
for  their  power  of  doing  and  inventing  and  creating.  The 
artistic  faculty  was  much  thought  of  by  Froebel,  and,  as  in 
the  education  of  the  ancients,  the  sense  of  rhythm  in  sound 
and  motion  was  cultivated  by  music  and  poetry  introduced 
in  the  games.     Much  care  was  to  be  given  to  the  training 


SPREAD  OF  THE  KINDERGARTEN.       343 

of  the  senses,  especially  those  of  sight,  sound,  and  touch. 
Intuition,  or  first-hand  experience  (^Anschanung)^  was  to  he 
recognized  as  the  true  basis  of  knowledge,  and  though  sto- 
ries were  to  be  told,  and  there  was  to  be  much  intercourse 
in  the  way  of  social  chat,  instruction  of  the  imparting  and 
"learning-up  "  kind  was  to  be  excluded.  Froebel  souglit  to 
teach  the  children  not  -what  to  think  but  how  to  think,  in 
tills  following  in  the  steps  of  Pestalozzi,  who  had  done  for 
»the  child  what  Bacon  nearly  two  hundred  years  before  had 
done  for  the  philosopher.  Where  possible  the  children 
were  to  be  much  in  the  open  air,  and  were  each  to  cultivate 
a  little  garden. 

To  judge  by  all  appearances  at  the  present  date  (1S81), 
the  Kindergarten  will  be  an  im-portant  institution  in  the  ed- 
ucation of  the  future.  The  first  Kindergarten  was  opened 
at  Blankenburg,  near  Rudolstadt,  in  1840,  but  after  a  needy 
existence  of  eight  years  was  closed  for  want  of  funds.  In 
1851  the  Prussian  Government  declared  that  "schools 
founded  on  Froebel's  principles,  or  principles  like  them, 
could  not  be  allowed."  But  the  idea  had  far  too  much 
vitality  to  be  starved  or  frowned  down.  Although  its 
progress  has  not  been  rapid,  it  has  been  constant.  As  early 
as  1854  it  was  introduced  into  England  by  the  then  famous 
Ronges,  and  Henry  Barnard  reported  on  it  that  it  was  "  by 
far  the  most  original,  attractive,  and  philosophical  form  of 
infant  development  the  world  has  yet  seen  "  (^Report  to  Gov- 
ernor of  Conneciicjit^  1854).  But  the  attempt  failed,  and 
though  there  are  now  a  Froebel  Society.  scver:il  institu- 
tions for  training  young  women  to  conduct  Kindergart- 
ens, and  also  some  good  Kindergartens,  Froebel's  idea  is 
only  just  finding  a  home  in  Britain.  The  great  propa- 
gandist of  Froebelism,  the  Baroness  Marenholtz-Bulow, 
drew  the  attention  of  the  French  to  the  Kindergarten 
from  the  year  1855,  and  Michelet  declared  that  Froebel  had 


344     FROEBEL  AND  THE  KINDERGARTEN. 

"  solved  the  problem  of  human  education."  In  the  depart- 
ment of  the  Seine  the  "  Salles  d'asile  "  now  consist  of  a 
class  for  children  from  two  to  four  years  old,  and  a  "  Froebel 
class"  of  children  from  f(jur  to  six.  In  Italy  the  Kindergarten 
has  been  introduced  by  Madame  Salis-Schwabe,  and  is 
used  in  the  education  of  the  poor.  In  Austria  it  is  recog- 
nized and  regulated  by  the  Government,  though  the  Volks- 
Kindergarten  are  not  numerous.  But  by  far  the  greatest 
developments  of  the  Kindergarten  system  are  in  the  United 
States  and  in  Belgium.  Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  assisted  by 
Miss  Blow,  tried  the  experiment  of  making  the  Kindergarten 
a  part  of  the  public  education  in  St.  Louis  eight  years  ago 
(1873),  and  there  are  now  no  less  than  8,000  children,  all  over 
five  years  of  age,  in  the  St.  I>ouis  public  Kindergartens.  In 
Belgium  the  mistresses  of  the  "  Ecoles  gardiennes"  have  for 
some  time  been  instructed  in  the  *'  idea  of  the  Kindergarten  " 
and  "  Froebtl's  method,"  and  in  1880  the  Minister  of  Pub- 
lic Instruction,  Van  Humbeeck,  issued  a  programme  for  the 
"  Ecoles  Gardiennes  Communales,"  which  is  both  in  fact 
and  in  profession  a  Kindergarten  manual.  This  programme 
attributes  the  improvement  in  infant  schools  to  "  le  souffle 
puissant  de  Froebel ;"  and,  after  explaining  that  the  method 
to  be  adopted  is  based  on  the  laws  which  govern  the  de- 
velopment of  the  child,  the  Minister  continues:  "In  its 
great  principles  as  well  as  in  its  main  applications  this 
method  is  that  created  by  the  genius  of  Froebel."  This  es- 
timate of  Froebel's  principles  contrast  strangely  with  the 
Prussian  Minister's  thirty  years  earlier. 

Literature. — Henry  Barnard's  volume,  Kindergarttn  and  Child 
Culture,  Hartford,  U.  S.  A.,  1S81  (Eng.  agent,  Thos.  Laurie,  31 
Paternoster  Row),  contains  a  large  collection  of  papers  on  the  subject, 
original  and  translated.  W.  T.  Harris'  Reports  give  full  accounts  of 
the  adaptation  of  the  Kindergarten  to  public  education  at  St.  Louis. 
Kindergartens  in  Germany  are  described  in  Joseph  Payne's  Visit  to 
German  Schools,  1876.     Practical  guides  published  in  England  arc 


SPREAD  OF  THE  KINDERGARTEN.      345 

E.  Wiebe's  Pa<adise  of  Children.,  and  Miss  Ljschinkas's  Princi- 
fits  of  the  Kindergarten  (Isbister),  1880.  The  Autobiography  of 
Ptorbeihas  been  translated  by  E.  Michaelis  and  II.  K.  Moore;  also 
the  Mutter-u.  Koselieder,  by  Miss  Lord  (Riie,  86,  Fleet  street) 
Some  of  tlie  short  papers  published,  as,  e.  g-.  Miss  E.  A.  Manning's 
Frocbel  and  Infant  Training  (Stanford,  price  6^.),  have  a  value 
quite  out  of  proportion  to  their  size  and  price.  Miss  Gurney  has 
abridged  Kohler  in  English  as  First  Gijts,  etc.  (Myers),  and  Gold- 
ammer's  Praxis  has  been  translated  by  Wright.  Miss  Shirreff  has 
lately  published  The  Kindergarten  at  Home  (Hughes).  Froebel 
literature  in  Germany  has  lately  increased  far  beyond  my  knowl- 
edge, even  of  titles.  I  have  had  the  following  lecommended  to  me  : — 
Zur  Frauenfrage  and  GrundzUge  d.  Idcen  F.  Frocbels,  by  Hen- 
rietta Breymanti  (Braunschweig  I,  and  Frauenanthiel  au  der  Volks- 
bildung,  by  Amalie  Sohr  (Perthes,  1883).  L.  Walter  has  attempt:-! 
a  complete  list  of  books  and  periodicals  on  the  subject  in  his  Di. 
Fr6belliteratur.  For  American  books  see  Steiger's  Cyclofcedia  f 
Education  ;  and  for  Enoflish,  the  list  published  in  Report  and  Lai 
oidar  of  the  Froebel  Society  for  1885  (Ricej. 


INDEX. 


Ahiturientenexamefi,  330,  xi6. 
Acudeiiiies  in  Jesuit  schools,  o. 
Accomplishments,  I.flckc  on,  87,94. 
Action,  main  Inctor  in  education,  336, 

343- 

yftsop,  Locke  on,  89,  92. 

—  as  reading'  books,  271 . 

yfisthetic  ciiitnre,  4^,  19a,  2^^. 

Alt  IS  in  all,  20S. 

Amii-cmfnts,  I^oikc  on  instnictive,  S6. 

Analysis  versux  Synthesis,  11. 

AnxckauuHg,  iSS,  note,  343. 

Apparatus,  use  of,  2Cl. 

Aristocracy  satirized  by  Pcstalozzi,  159. 

Arilhimtic,  Pcstalozzian,  191. 

Arnold,  Dr.  ,on  first  history -l)ook,  275. 

Arnold,  .M  ,  a)i:ainst  conipctilive  exam- 
inations for  children,  138,  note. 

Aschnm.     See  Tabic  of  Contents. 

Austen,  Miss,  quoted,  219,  note. 

Authority,    parental,   how   established, 

77- 
B.ich's  Fugues,  Mozart's  love  of,  231, 

not*. 
Bacon,  precursor  of  Pcstalozzi,  343. 
Bain,  Professor,  his  theory  of  pleasure, 

264,  note. 
Barnard,  Henry,  Report  on  Froebclism, 

Basedow.     See  Table  ol  Contents. 
Behrisch  and  Basedow,  144. 
Belgium,  kindergarten  in,  344. 
Biography  for  boys,  27S. 
Blunder  of  "  cramming  children,"  179. 

—  oJ  giving  only  book-knowledge,  247. 

—  of  teaching   what   is  incomprehensi- 
ble, 249,  note. 

—  about  "  first  principles,"  350. 

—  oJ     not    teaching    about    interesting 
things,  252. 

—  of  not  giving  primary  ideas,  255. 

—  01  insisting  on  repulsive  tasks,  256. 

—  of  assuming  knowledge  in  pupil,  257. 

—  of  teaching  words  without  ideas,  366. 

—  of  using  epitomes.  275. 

—  aboit  dicUltion,  372. 

"Book  about   Dominies,"  quoted,  2SS, 

Books,  Rousseau  against,  130. 

—  function  of,  246,  24S. 
Books  for  the  young,  276,  277. 

Burke   on   the   "  Method  ol   Investiga- 
tion, 335. 
Cambridge    m.athematicAl    tri|>os,    214, 

Campc,  154. 

Carlyle  on  routiue  work,  356. 


Childhood  difTcrs  from  youth,  104,  \\j, 

179.  2S9. 
Child-nature,  341. 
Children  badly  taught,  153,  177  ff. 

—  emulation  of,  365. 

—  how  taught  at  I.A-ipz  g.  267. 
Children's  interest  in  thuigf,  266. 

—  knowledg'e,  how  gained,  346,  365. 
Churcli  of  England  Service,  391. 
Cicero  quoted,  30. 

Citizen's  dutios,  336. 
Class-matches.  295. 
Cla-sics,  Spencer  and  Mill,  233. 
Colet  on  grammar-rules,  299. 
Coinenius.      See  Tuble  of  Contents. 
Common  knowledge  greatest,  3147. 
Competitive  examinations  bad  for  chil- 
dren, 13S,  note. 
Compositiiiii,  273. 

—  Jacotol's  exercises  in,  323. 
Compulsory  study,  80. 
Concertalions,  8  39s. 
Concrete  to  abstract,  33,  350. 
Connection  of  knowledges,  308,  310. 
Cor|>oral  punishment,  15,  79,  Si. 
Dancing,  I><x;ke  on,  S3. 

Davies,  Miss,  quoted,  73,  note,  81. 
Day-schools    for  children    wanted,  73, 

note. 
De  Morgan  on  learning  one  thing  well, 

316. 
De  Quincey  on  schools,  72,  note. 
Dejection  of  scholar  iatal  to  learning, 

81 

—  of  master  fatal  to  teaching,  387. 
Desire  for  learning,  118,  133. 
Dictation,  272. 

Didactic  teaching  of  Jesuits,  7,  16. 

—  Montaigne  against,  30. 

—  Rousseau  against,  133. 

—  Pcstalozzi  against,  1&9. 

—  Tacotot  against,  199,  306. 

—  Pope  on.  207. 

Didactic       teaching,      French      report 

against,  225,  note. 
Dicsterweg  defends  Froebel,  335. 
Difficulties  in  learning,  use  of,  91,  135. 
Disputations,   I-ocke  against.  86,  93. 
Doctors  not  always  to  be  called  in,  75. 
Doctrinale  of  Alexander,  31,  396. 
Drawing.      See  .^Esthetic  culture. 
Drummond,  H..  quoted,  293,  note. 
Edgcworth  on  generalizations,  250,  not*. 
Education  threefold  (Rousseau),  103. 
Elder  boys,  their  influence,  289. 
Elementary    teaching,   its  importance, 

171,  190. 

(347) 


348 


INDEX. 


Emerson,  R.  W.,  quoted,  291. 
Kin|>iric»I  knowledge,  235,  252. 
Kniuiiiliuii  ill  Jesuit  schools,  8. 

—  its  use,  165. 

—  (Class  Mutches),  295. 

English  language.  See  Mother-tongue. 

—  literature  in  schools,  21 S. 
"Enthusiasm  of  humanity  "  in  Pcsta- 

lozzi,  183. 
Epitomes,  Rousseau  against,  116. 

—  ise  and  abuse  of,  274. 

—  a  specimen  of,  317  fr. 

■'  Evening  Hour  of  a  Hermit,"  extracts 

from,  311 . 
Exercises,  written,  272. 
Facts,  kind  of,  to  teach,  220. 

—  not  to  teach,  219,  note^  317. 
Faculties,  the  Jesuits' paitial  training  of, 

—  Pestalozzi  on  development  of  the, 
183  ff. 

—  social,  cultivation  of,  306 

Failure  of  present  system  of  education, 

218. 
Father  and  son,  78,  312. 

—  should  be  the  educator  (Rousseau), 
98. 

Fear  prevents  learning,  80. 

Few  subjects  should  be  taught  at  school, 

216,  217,  321. 
Fichte  claims  child  for  State,  33S. 
Firmness,  Rousseau  on,  127. 
Flogging.     See  Corporal  punishment. 
Korgutting.     See  Learning. 
Form,  number  and  speech,  190. 
Formal  education,  exaggeration  about, 
„73- 

Franklin  on  bad  reading,  271. 
Freedom    of    action,     its    educational 

value,  128. 
French,  Locke  on,  87. 

—  in  the  Philanthropin,  147. 
Fioebel,  early  years,  327. 

—  with  Pestalozzi,  329. 
Froebel  and  Pestalozzi,  329,  338. 

—  .1  soldier,  330. 

—  and  mineralogy,  331. 

—  at  Keilhau,  332. 

—  in  Switzerland,  332. 

—  opens  kindergarten,  333. 

—  dies,  3^5. 

—  founds  education  on  religion,  336. 

—  and  unity  of  all  things,  32S,  336. 

—  on  self-activity,  3^6. " 

—  and  Comenius,  336. 

—  his  triple  chord,  337. 

—  on  childhood,  337! 

—  and  Fichte,  338. 

—  liis  influence  extending,  339. 

—  literature,  339,  344. 

—  and  Locke,  342. 

—  his  "  gifts,''  342. 

Gentleman,  Locke  on  education  of,  69. 

Geoirraphy,  320,  279. 

Goethe  s  intercourse  with  Basedow,  142. 

—  Faust  quoted,  213. 


Goethe's  first  picture  book  of  Homeric 

heroes,  276. 
Good  spirits,  importance  of,  287. 
Governor.     See  Tutor. 
Grammar,  difficulties  not  to  be   taught 

by  rules,  10. 

—  C'olet  on,  299. 

—  Wolsey  on,  22. 

—  Ascham  on,  24,  26,  27. 

—  Locke  on,  go. 

—  what  is  it  ?  90,  note. 

— Latin  before  English,  248. 

Greek,  Locke  against,  93. 

Hack's,  Miss,  '•winter  Evenings,''  279. 

Harris,  William  T.,  and  kindergarten, 

344- 
Health,   attention  to,  in  Jesuit  schools, 

«4- 
Helps,   A.,  for  teaching  a  science,  235, 
note. 

—  on  learning  one  thing  well.  315. 

—  on  preparation  for  open-mindcdncss, 

293- 
History  as  now  taught,  220,  274,  317. 

—  H.  Spencer  on,  236. 

—  J.  S.  Mill  on,  238',  note. 

—  first  book  of,  275. 

—  for  boys,  how  it  shculd  be   written, 
277,  278. 

Hope,    A.     R.,     against    middle-sized, 

schools,  289,  note. 
Hours  of  study,  10,  62,  97. 
Huinbeeck,  Van,  and  kindergarten,  3A4. 
.Huxley,    Professor,    a    writer    for  the 

young,  277. 
Hymns,  292. 
Ignorance  of  children  to  be  maintained, 

—  from  excessive  routine- work,  28S. 
Industrial  schools  started  by  Pestalozzi, 

164. 
Influence  with   boys,   how  gained  and 

lost,  2S3,  flf. 
Informal  teaching,  value  of,  2S3. 

—  must  not  be  neglected  fortorinal,288. 
Innate  sense  of  right  and  wrong  (Rous- 
seau), 127.  , 

Innovators,  common  principles  of  the, 

32. 
Interest  in  study.     See  Learning. 
Interlinear  translations,  Locke's  use  of, 

89. 
Jacotot.     See  Table  of  Contents. 

Iacotot's  maxims,  2CX),  201,  208,  210. 
anua  Linguarum,  46,  63. 
esuits.     See  Table  of  Contents, 
ohnson.  Dr.,  on  Ascham's  plans,  23. 
onson,    Ben,    on   soul   instead  ol   salt, 
2S8  ». 
Jouvancy.     Seejouvency. 
jouvency,  a  note,  7  note,  9,  10,  11. 
Kant  on" educational  experiments,  154. 
Keilhau,  Mecca  of  new  education,  332. 
Kennedy,    Professor,    against    English 

grammar,  249. 
Kindergarten,  rise  of,  333. 


INDEX. 


349 


Kindergarten,  abject  of,  33S. 

—  differ-  from  iniants'  »cniH>l,  3.(1. 

—  spread  of.  343. 

—  in  America,  343. 

—  literature,  345. 

Knowledge  not  the  object  of  ediu-ation, 

—  vtrsMS  power,  213  n.,  3ZI  n. 

—  in  education  a  means  only.  aiS. 
Knowledges,  comparative  value  of,  i30, 

Known,  from    the,    fo  the    unknown, 

*IS  ff- 

I-angethal,  330,  331.  334,  noU. 
Language,   Commissioners'  opinion  of 
study  of,  306. 

—  Comenius  on  learning,  61. 
Latin,  Ascham's  plan  for,  23  IT. 

—  Ratich's  plan  for,  38. 

—  Conienius's  plan  for,  63. 

—  Locke's  plan  for,  8S  fl. 

—  Basedow's  plan  for,  147,  149. 

I^tin  grammar,  its  gradual   simpliflca- 
tibn,  31. 

—  what  is  it  ?  90,  note. 

—  taught  too  soon,  248. 

reaming  should  be^nade  pleasant  (Jes- 
uits), 18. 
Learning  (Innovators),  32. 

—  (Ratich  and  Plato),  37. 
-< Milton),  42. 

—  (Comenius),  58. 

—  (I.ocke),79,  83,  Sr>. 

—  (Rousseau),  1 18. 

—  fPestalozzi),  193. 

—  fH.  Snencer),  253. 

—  (Wordswortn),  263,  note. 

—  the   matter  discussed,   354  ff,  262  ff, 
374,  380. 

I.«arning  ihould  be  made  easy  at  first, 

91. 
learning,  nse  of  difficulties  in,  91,  135, 

203. 
learning  and  forgetting,  212. 
Lectures  of  Jesuits,  7,  11. 
Leipzig,  teaching  of  children  at,  267  ff. 
I^iberty,  Rousseau  on,  123,  124. 
Lily's  Grammar,  297. 
Litanies,  292. 

Literature,  study  of,  30?,  306. 
Locke.     See  Table  oi  Contents. 
Ivocke  and  Froebel,342. 
liord's  Prayer,  classical  version  of,  298. 
Losing  time,  art  of  (Rousseau),  99. 

—  importance  of,  138,  note. 
Manners,  Locke  on  gocnl,  82. 
Marenholtz-Bulow,   Baroness  von,  334, 

,.343- 

Mathematical  man,  the,  214. 

Maxims,  Ratich's,  35. 

—  Jacotot's,  200,  201,  20S,  210. 

—  of  Methodology,  307. 

.Mayor,  J.  E.  B.,  on  Ascham's  methoti, 

Mechanical  appliances,  251. 

Memory^  Saccniai  on  storing  the,  17,  n. 


Memory  to  l<r  used  only  about  things 
understood  (Innovators),  xi. 

—  (Ratich).  36. 

—  (Comenius).  57. 

—  (Rousseau),  iifi. 

—  I..<>(:ke  on  st'englhening  the,  91. 

—  Jacot'H '  s  use  1)1 ,  31 1 . 

—  waste  of,  1 16,  219,  230,  261. 

—  ill  mathematics,  320. 

—  excessive  use  of,  253,  257. 

—  assisted  by  interest,  18,91,  375. 
Mersenne,  49. 

.Mi-thad  of  Jesuits,  7. 

—  of  Innovators,  33. 

—  of  Comenius,  01. 

—  of  Investigation,  325. 
Methodology    maxims  ni,  307. 
Methodus  L.ingiiarum,  t,i.' 
Michclet  on  Frotbil,  J3O,  313. 
Middendorff,  330,  331,  332," 3.55. 
Mill,  J.  S.,  on  classics,  232. 

—  on  history,  238,  note. 

—  on  the  object  of  education,  2)2,  noli 
Milton.     See  Table  of  Contents, 

—  on  study  of  things,  303. 
.Model-boo'ft ,  study  of  a,  27,  38,  39,  308. 

—  ways  of  studying,  212. 
Montaighe.     See  Table  of  Contents. 

—  on  children's  games,  34^. 
Mother  tongue,  31,  61. 

—  Mulcasler  on  use  of,  300  ff. 

—  I.ocke  on  study  of,  90,  93. 

—  Jacotot's  plan  for,  223. 
Mozart's  study  of  Bach,  221,  note. 
Mulcaster,  3bo. 

Multifarious  studies,  Rousseau  against, 
131,  text  and  note. 

—  danger  of,  217. 

Narrowing  effect  of  teaching,  261,  286. 
Nature,  Innovators  a^  peal  to,  32. 

—  value  ot  appealing  to,  55. 

—  Comenius  appeals  to,  JS.  S8,  S9- 

—  Locke  appeals  to,  75,  76. 

—  Rousseau  appeals  to,  98. 

—  Basedow,  145,  148. 

—  Pestalozzi,  311. 

—  Froebel,  328,  329,  330,  336. 
Natural  faculties  to  be  developed  (Pes- 
talozzi), 185,311. 

Natural  philosophy,  Txicke  on,  03. 
Newton,  Locke  on,  93. 
Obelin  a  pliilanthropinist,  154. 

—  formed  day  asylums,  341. 
Object-lessons,  109,  172,  191. 
Observation  to  be  taught,  18S. 
Offspring,  manner  of  rearing,  235. 
Orhts  Pictu^,  S3.  66. 
Organization  in  Jesuit  schools,  5. 

—  want  ol,  in  English  schools,  16. 
Over-work,  its  bad  effect  on   teacher, 

2S7. 
Oxenstiern,  go. 
Payne,  J.,  on  Jacotot,  19S.  etc. 

—  on  curriculum  of  education,  317. 
Pestalozzi.     See  Table  of  Contents. 

—  and  Froebel^329,  338. 


35^ 


INDEX. 


Philistinism,  moral  and  intellectnal,  2S6. 
Physical  education  (Montaigne),  31. 

—  education  (Innovators),  32. 

—  (I»cke),  74  ff. 

—  (Kousseaii),  in. 

—  (Basedow),  153, 

—  (Pestalozzi),  19J. 

—  neglect  oi',  108  note,  181. 
Physiology,  Spencer  for,  231. 
Pictures  used  by  Comenius,  66. 

—  used  by  Basedow,  1 15. 

—  should  be  used,  267, 270,  276. 
Piety,  education  to,  291 . 
Plato  quoted,  37,  note. 
Pleasure  in  study.     See  Learning. 

—  a  mean  only,  264. 
Plutarch's  IJves,  27S. 

Poetry,  H.  Speiv:er  on,  239,  note. 

—  sliould  be  taught,  271,  273. 

—  often  badly  said,  271. 
Poets,  Locke's  estimate  of,  310. 
Pope  on  didactic  teaching,  207. 

—  on  teaching  only  words,  304, 
Prayer,  private,  292. 
Preparatory  schools,  72  note,  iSo,  289. 
Public  schools,  69,  129,  28S. 

—  religious  instruction  in,  290. 
Punishments,  9,  15,  60,  81,  127. 
Qitadriviuin,  the,  31. 

(^iiintilian  quoted,  n8,  text  and  note. 
Rainsauer  on  Pestalozzi,  313. 
Ratich.     See  Table  of  Contents. 
Ratio  Studiorum,  its  origin,  3. 

—  first  edition  of,  2,  note. 

Reading,  how  it  should  be  tauglit,  36, «. 

—  Ratich  s  plan  for,  38. 

—  jacotot's  plan  for,  222. 

—  how  taught  at  Leipzig,  267. 

—  good,  liow  taught,  271. 
Reading-books,  270,  273,  279. 
Reasoning  with  children  (Locke),  84. 
Reimarus  teaches  Baesdow,  139. 
Religion  the  ground  of  education.  336. 
Religious  instruction  in  public  schools, 

290. 

—  in  national  schools,  290. 

—  in  Germany,  290. 

—  connected  with  worship,  291. 

—  should  be  concrete,  294,  note. 
Renascence  fixed  theory  ot  education, 

r>3,'».34'-  ^ 

Robinson  Crusoe,  Rousseau  on,  123. 

Rousseau.     See  Table  of  Contents. 

—  on  common  knowledge,  246,  note. 
Routine  work,  preparation  for,  256. 

—  its  effect  on  tne  mind,  287. 

—  an  escape  from  thought,  28S. 
Sacchini,  2,  note. 

—  quoted,  6,  8  note,  13,  14  note,  17  «.,  18. 
Sails,  Schwabe,  MacJaine,  344. 
Saying  by  heart.     See  Memory. 
School-hours  of  Jesuits  f  liort,  10. 

—  of  Comenius,  62. 

School  hours  of  Basedow,  153. 
Schools,  different  kinds  of,  61. 


Schools,   public  versus  private,  60   128. 
288. 

—  bad  state  of,  in  eighteenth  century, 
140. 

—  preparatory,  180,  2S9. 

—  day,  for  children  wanted,  72,  note. 
Science,  money-value  of,  233. 

—  should  be  taught,  21S,  235. 

—  way  of  teaching,  199,  204. 
Science  of  education,  .43. 
Seeley,  J.  R. ,  218,  note,  249,  320. 
Self-aclivity,  337. 
Self-denial,  I^cke  on,  77. 
Self-development,  252. 
Self-preservation,  231. 
Self-teaching,  32,  134,  200. 

Senses,  knowledge  through  the  (Inno 
vators),  32. 

—  (Comenius),  58. 

—  f  Milton),  67." 

—  (Kousseau),  :09ff. 

—  (Pestalozzi),  18S. 

—  (H.  Spencer),  217. 

Senses,  education  ol  (Rousseau),  100,109. 

—  in  Philanthropin,  145. 

—  (Pestalozzi),  192. 
Severity,  22,  «ote,,';8.  So,  81. 
Simple,  from  the,  to  the  complex,  245. 
Societas  Professa  of  Jesuits,  of  whom 

composed,  3. 
Speaking,  practice  in  (Locke),  92. 

—  manner  of  (Rousseau),  113. 
Sociology  (H.  Si)enccr),  238. 
Spelling  taught  by  dice,  &. 

—  Jacotot's  plan,  224. 

—  suggestions  fcrj  272. 

—  class  matches  in,  205. 

Spencer,  H.     See  Table  of  Contents. 
Stanley,  Lord,  quoted.  108,  note,  217,  n. 
Stephen,    Sir  J.,    on  the   connection  of 

knowledges,  316. 
Subjects  taught  by  Jesuits,  7. 

—  in  the  Scltola   Vernacula,  61 . 

—  in  the  Philanthropin,  146. 
Teacher's  calling,  the,  14,  note,  286. 
Teaching  apt  to   narrow  the  teacher, 

261,  286. 
Telemague,  Jacotot's  model  book,  208. 
Themes,  Locke  against,  91. 
Theorists,  their  value,  104,  227. 
Things.     See  Words  and  Things. 
Thorough  learning  (Jesuits),  13. 

—  (.\scham),  28. 

—  (Pestalozzi),  172, 191. 

—  fjacotot),  210,  212. 

—  (Helps),  315. 

—  (De  Morgan),  316. 

—  (Wiese),  321. 

—  value  ot,  216,  220. 

"  Tom  Brown,"  great  influence  of,  277. 
Tone  of  school,  289,  290. 
Tout  est  dans  tout,  20S,  2jo. 
Trade  to  be  learnt,  (Ixicke),  94. 

—  (Rousseau),  136. 

—  (Basedow),  153. 


INDEX. 


35' 


Training,  mental,  187,  308,  aiS  ff. 
'rranslalions,  both  ways,  33,  36. 

—  Kalich'8  use  of,  38. 

—  Comenius's  use  of,  63. 

—  I.x)cke's  use  of,  89. 

—  Jacotot's  use  of,  aoo,  303. 
Travel,  Locke  on,  94. 

—  Ixmks  of,  279. 
Trivium,  the,  31. 

Tutor,  private,  I»cke  on,  69,  ^4. 

—  Rousseau,  99,  106  ff. 

United  States,  kindergarten  in,  314. 

University  men  as  teachers,  260,  261. 

Verses,  Latin,  91,  319,  note. 

Vitality  of  childhood,  (Rousseau),  loS. 

Virtue,  Rousseau  on,  ui. 

Wicse,  Dr.  L. ,  on  English  and  German 

education,  321  ff. 
"  Winter  Evenings,"  279. 
Wolsey's  directions,  21. 
Words  and  things  (Montaigne),  29. 


Words  and  ihines  (Innovators),  32. 

—  ^Comenius),  So. 

—  (Milton),  303. 

—  (Cowley).  303. 

—  (Locke),  88. 

—  (Pope),3"4- 

—  (Rousseau),  114. 

—  (Pestalozzi),  190. 

—  (Cowj>er),  304. 

—  meaning  ot  antithesis,  302. 
Words  substituted  for  ideas,  211. 
Wordsworth    on   pleasure  in  learning, 

363,  note. 

—  on  general  truths,  286. 
Wrestling,  Milton  lor,  42. 

—  Locke  for,  94. 

Writing,  Locke's  plan  for,  87. 

—  Jacotot's  plan  for,  222. 

Yongc's,   Miss,  "  Golden  Deeds,  "  277 
Youth.     See  Childhood. 


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